Nova Peak It's like an apple of temptation

@Taikon

Her favorite place to be was high up in the peak, and since she didn't really sleep much as a rule, she found the worn trail and followed the familiar path as high up as she could go. When she wasn't searching the borders for intruders or tending to the caches, she could be found in her spot high up in the mountain. 

The air was crisp and cold up here, but she found the feeling comforting; it was as close of a reminder of nights on the glacier as she could get without actually going there. She found her favorite ledge—the one that looked down the mountain and across their territory—and settled down in the strip of moonlight that peeked through the clouds. She was often alone up here, and she never minded that. It was quiet and she could sift through her thoughts in peace.

He didn't follow her up the mountain trail, exactly. It was also true that he didn't change direction when he encountered her pawprints fresh on the path.
The night had long been a time he preferred being active. Though Taikon had tried to break out of this habit since his arrival at Nova Peak, his endeavours had been unsuccessful. Sagtannet was not a pack that enjoyed policing its pack members, however, and so he now lacked the motivation to change.
Things were tense with the coming of winter coupled with the anger Wylla had stirred against the Rusalkans. It was on the mountain peaks that he, like Takiyok, hoped to find solace. His thoughts buzzed despite his air of calm. He wondered about the places he had once roamed. He thought of Lunaria, and hoped that she was getting on all right on her own. He wondered if the Saints were still causing havoc in the Sunspires and surrounding areas. Taikon's heart longed to roam, but he wanted to be more settled before he began wandering far from home.
Takiyok was alone on her ledge. Her coat seamed to glow in the chill air. His steps were loud in comparison to her quiet. He wandered over to give a quick and pleasant nuzzle, casually sitting by her. He left space between them. Can't sleep? He assumed she couldn't because he couldn't, but was sure there were different reasons why.

Taikon's steps had her turning her head to towards him as he approached. She returned his nuzzle with a brief one of her own, and turned to look out over the mountain again as he settled down next to her. 

She shrugged a little at his question. I've never been one for sleeping really, she answered. My mind is too busy most of the time to allow me more than a few hours. It had always been that way, and at this point, her body had grown accustomed to it. Really she was spoiled here; there was a time when she was far busier and expected to do more with her small amounts of sleep. But now, she was hardly as stressed. Old Taki might have been unsatisfied with that, but she had no complaints for now. 

Eventually, she would direct the conversation back to him, as was their pattern. How do you like Sagtannet? she asked. She was more than curious to hear his opinion of the place. More than anything, though, she wanted to make sure he was happy here.

Taikon wondered what exactly her mind was so busy with all the time. Surely Stag couldn't fill all that space on his own. Perhaps she was much like him, constantly dwelling on the past without feeling much control over it. The idea of sleeping a handful of hours made him frown. He had trouble imagining what that might be like, considering he frequently slept half of a full day, particularly after one of his longer travels.
He nodded all the same, knowing that it was virtually impossible to break such habits, and generally there was no need. The pack borders were just as well guarded from intruders at night as during the day. Nocturnal animals, too, would venture out under the stars to be caught by an alert wolf.
It is a bit like the Farukan Kingdom, my homeland, but in terrain only, he said slowly, echoing the same thought he had told to Asra. Only we have Wylla the Fiery instead of my mother at the helm, he smiled thin, glancing at her. Wylla, he could tell, had a short fuse. Mahler was someone he was less familiar with and thus couldn't speak to. In structure, his birthplace and Sagtannet had nothing in common. For that, he was thankful.

She nodded, more questions filling her mind as he spoke of his home. She was always so interested to know more about him. Perhaps it was because she had not had a true friend in a very long time. She and Mahler knew each other in the way close friends might, but there was so much baggage there—between Stigmata's death, and her long ago unrequited love for the Eisen, it always seemed things were too complicated to really let her guard down completely with him. He had helped deliver her children and acted as a father to Stag, and she would always be grateful for that, but it was just never the same once her feelings had been involved. So the possibility of something uncomplicated was more than she could have hoped for. He called Wylla fiery, and she thought that was an appropriate description; it caused an amused smirk to tug at the corner of her lips. She too had a short fuse once upon a time, and there was no doubt she could be angered like that now, but it just took a lot more these days. Life had been too hard for her over the last few years, and she just didn't have the energy to maintain an easily-stoked temper anymore. I take it to be a good thing we are not like your family's pack? she asked in return. That was her assumption based on their first conversation back in Sunspire.

The question gave him pause. He stiffened noticeably. Looking out from the ledge, he watched the clouds roll over the moon. The light upon Takiyok dimmed then, and Taikon took a moment to lay down in a regal sphinx position. After a long breath out, he followed the silence with words.
It's a good thing, he said, swallowing what felt like a rough stone. It made an audible sound — his tongue felt dry and the cold air through his nose wasn't helping. Taikon knew that she wanted more, but he had to be careful to step around the hardest parts of his story. They were wounds that were still too painful to open. It was quite possible they always would be. He had never spoken about it, not even to women like Lunaria whom he'd cried his heart out to.
We didn't see eye to eye, he said, though he knew he had told her that when they had first met. My mother was a bit of a monster. Well, actually that's putting it mildly. She brought war to many packs. She swallowed them and turned their sons and daughters into slaves, or plebeians if they were lucky, he explained, unable to look at her through it. What Taikon did not mention was that he had been brought up as a prince, and as such he had long enjoyed the comforts and luxuries of his royal position. That meant he had been a part of her vicious system, regardless of who had invented it.
In fact, his mother had been one of a long line of Farukan Queens and Kings that followed such a pattern. Taikon had broken the cycle, but he was certain that she or a chosen heir was still doing the same fascist bullshit. It created a lot of suffering. He was one of those who suffered, but he knew there were many others who had lost more than he had. Entire families had been wiped from the earth, all for the sake of power and a facade of knowledge-seeking values.

Ar first, he said nothing, and she worried he wouldn't answer her question. She had pried, after all—had pushed to know more about him than the small amount of information he had already offered. She continued to look out and away from him as he shifted beside her, switching from sitting to laying. 

When he did finally answer, she turned to look at him. It was a good thing, but he still seemed troubled. She wondered if he would offer more, but she gave him the space to make that choice, only nodding and offering a small smile. She was glad, at least, that things were better for him here. There was still concern in her gaze as she studied him, wondering if he would offer more of his story. 

And when he did, she listened quietly, her gaze never leaving his face as he spoke. She watched emotions flicker across the profile of his face as he told her of his mother and how they didn't see eye to eye. He told her she was a monster, taking down packs with war and turning other wolves into slaves. He was clearly bothered by it all.

She drew in a deep breath. I hope this place offers you some comfort from your old life, she offered quietly. She knew what it was like to battle over the pack's way of life with a parent, although not quite to his extent; her own father was a cruel bastard, but his worst was never anything like what Taikon described. Still, suffering was suffering, and she understood more than most. You are brave for leaving them, she continued. It is hard to go against a parent, even when they are wrong. Even when they were a monster—the bond of parent and child would always complicate things.

It was his turn to dump his garbage on her this time. Takiyok and he had an interesting, strangely casual relationship. For the amount that he trusted her, one might have expected to have developed romantic inclinations or otherwise feel very close to her, but the friendship kept a healthy amount of space. Though he had kept a theme of forging trusting relationships only with women, they were never confused in nature.
Takiyok offered her support, listening well. He nodded as she suggested he may find comfort in this place, out on top of nowhere. Taikon had very much meant it when he had told Wylla he held no desire for grand adventures. He merely wanted a place where he could be still, be quiet, and help his chosen family.
He was brave, she said. It was hard to defy, she said.
The gold eye contact he gave the evening clouds was hard and challenging. It was as though he willed the moon itself to drop from the sky, so focused was he on not addressing what she had said. He didn't want to answer her because she was wrong.
But rather than switching the focus to her, as he often did, he continued. Actually, I was exiled, he clarified. A moment carried where he felt his saliva thicken. His heartbeat thumped harshly in his chest.
I'm not brave at all, see, he followed. Taikon could not tell her, or anyone, the reason for his exile. It was the same reason why he was unable to forge romantic relationships.

She felt foolish for assuming he had left of his own volition. But that was what happened when you assumed things, even for someone as perceptive as Taki. She wished she hadn't said the words at all, if only to spare him the obvious discomfort of telling her the truth. 

I apologize, she quickly offered. I shouldn't have assumed. But he had offered the truth, and she wondered if that meant he was willing to confide more. Taki was not one of stellar morals herself, so she would not be quick to judge him for his past. What could you have done to be exiled? she asked against her better judgement. But she really couldn't help but wonder what crime he could have possibly committed to make the mother he had described as a monster banish him from his home. Most of all, she wanted to offer him a space to talk about something that clearly weighed heavily on him.

No, she shouldn't have assumed that he was some kind of white knight that had intentionally left his home. He hadn't stood up to his mother. To that day he remained terrified of her and the power that she seemed so easily to wield. The insanity of the Queen had caused great rifts for hundreds of miles in the kingdom and beyond. Taikon had been powerless to stop it then, and so he had not even bothered to try.
Taikon wished that he could tell her that he had rallied together the dissatisfied and wounded souls. He wished that he had been the one who marched a rebellion upon his own mother. He wished that during the fighting, she had found a way to separate him, and thus exiled him. He wished he could have died a martyr.
But that was not the real story. The martyr in question had been Luciano. Taikon had helped to find him and was the reason he had been executed. Taikon was a coward. He had been exiled for other reasons.
It doesn't matter, he said. It did matter. It was a story that had left a hole in his heart that likely would never heal. I'm just glad to be here with you, now, Taikon followed. It was impossible for him to be angry with her. Takiyok had not meant to pry unnecessarily. He understood the curiosity. She was not trying to harm him.
How is your son? He redirected, making it clear that he would not talk about his exile any longer.

Her question was met with a wall—his guard slammed up, and she could tell he would not offer her anymore views into his past, at least not tonight. She had a feeling the chances of him actually telling her all the sordid details of his past were slim. Did it sting a little? Sure. She liked that he had been willing to have these meaningful conversations with her, especially during a time when she didn't trust many others enough to let her own guard down. But, she understood; there were many things she wouldn't be very willing to talk about, and she wouldn't appreciate others not being respectful of that. So, she dropped it, not asking any of the questions that filtered through her mind at the mention of his exile. I'm glad, too, she offered instead and left it at that. 

The subject of her children always lightened her mood, and a small smile curved her lips. He is well, she answered. My other son, Ego, has been missing since the death of his father. He recently returned, Taki offered next. I never thought I would see him again.  One son still remained missing, and she would always hold on to the hope that she would see him again. She was grateful to know that her other three children were alive and well, though.

He was thankful that she dropped it. They were friends because they could do this — dancing around one another's sore spots seemed to be their favourite past time. At least it was when they were together.
Takiyok had a delightful smile, however little it might have been. He could see very easily what he already knew: she loved her children more than perhaps anything else in the world. She had never spoken of her partner. Taikon assumed that the father of her sons was either dead or otherwise irrelevant; he wondered what had happened, but would never dare to ask.
Ego had returned. The answer of where their father was given without prompting, but that wasn't the important bit. A son. Back from the dead. That's great! I mean that's.. amazing actually, he said, looking back at her, tail flopping a few times on the cool stone beneath him. Taikon generally assumed that when people went missing, they were dead. He understood her assumption. He didn't realize she still had a missing child. Is he all right? If he had returned, he must have been "okay," but Taikon, being rather emotionally disturbed himself, knew that things could get complicated.

Her expression brightened with his reaction, her own tail swaying against the ground a few times as well. Taki nodded. Yes it is. I am very lucky and grateful. She had never truly given up hope, but the longer he had been missing, the less likely it had been that he might still be alive. Of course, it was her hope that he had found some pack to take him in and keep him safe—she hated that she had missed most of the first year of his life, but she could never repay whomever had kept him alive when she couldn't. 

His next question had her expression shifting to something more serious. Physically, yes, she said, hesitating and shrugging a little. I am not sure yet if he is okay otherwise. Time will tell. Stigmata's death had not been easy on any of them, and Ego had been without his family in addition to his grief.

Taikon was glad to see her in this state of brightness. Her smile was cool and beautiful. She had a northern way about her that would have made any man worth his salt weak at the knees. Taikon saw her only as the incredible woman she was — he did not feel nervous or strange around her.
Takiyok had referred to the person he assumed had been her mate only as "Ego's father." He didn't understand the relationship there and assumed that it caused her pain based on the way that she had mentioned him. She must have had children quite young, for the woman before him was wise but not old. Her children had reached adulthood.
For a very brief moment, the prince wondered what might have happened if his children had been allowed to live. The thought felt dark and so he abandoned it, pushing it out of his mind.
It's hard to lose a parent, he said, though he really meant it is hard to lose someone you love. He was curious about the boy. He wondered what a child of such a powerful woman might be like. What... what would you like to see for him? You know, what should he get from Sagtannet? He asked her. It was a bit of a difficult question, he knew. Surely, she had high expectations of her sons. Taikon made a point to meet this boy. He wanted to know at least that he was good and respected his mother. He wasn't sure how to measure otherwise.

It was hard to lose a parent that gave a shit about you, she thought. And she knew Stigmata had loved their children, and so they had all suffered greatly when he died—their pain was still seared into her heart and her memories and most likely would be for the rest of her life. That thought hadn't sprung to life because of her children's sire; it was directed at her own father, whose death she didn't morn for one second. Some might be eaten up by such disregard for the man that raised them, but she had learned a long time ago that he had never really cared about any of them; they were just a means to an end—soldiers for his arsenal. It had been a long time since she thought about him, and she quickly pushed the man from her mind, not wanting to ruin this moment. She only nodded her agreement. 

His question was one she did not mind answering. I want them to be happy, she said first. I have three sons and a daughter. My daughter, Simmik, is Beta of a pack on the other side of the mountains called Neverwinter Forest. Her twin, Mesa, is lost—my hope is that he will return some day as well. Taki looked down at her paws. I don't want them to be so consumed with power, as their father was, that they stretch themselves too thin and die unnecessarily. His dream had been an ambitious one, and she had been at his side, ready to help him achieve it until the children were born. Her priorities had shifted, and so had his. Stag is so level-headed; I don't think I have to worry about that with him. But Simmik is ambitious, like her father, and I fear it will lead her down a similar path. 

She shook her head and released a soft huff of laughter. I will talk about them forever if you let me, she added apologetically.

Takiyok surprised him once more. She had many children, more than the two sons he knew about. Taikon supposed that this information shouldn't have surprised him — it had always been clear that his friend revealed only what she felt like and it seemed pertinent to do so. The woman had quite the legacy for her age. He felt... almost envious.
Taikon listened to her tales. She spoke of her children, and of the father being consumed with power as she put it. He wondered then what had really happened. At some point, she had left. She was sick, and he wondered if she really meant pregnant when she said sick. Then, she had returned to Sagtannet because she felt she had no other choice. He wondered, then, if the choice had been for her unborn children. These were not things he would ever dream of asking. The prince hoped that at the very least, she was okay here with her remaining children.
I will never stop you, he said, more seriously than he'd meant it. Everything she said intrigued him. Her worries over their behaviour based on how their father had behaved, though, that struck him as an odd little tidbit. He latched onto it. You say ambitious but it sounds... worse than that. Their father was power-hungry? Tai knew all about that. He'd lived his young love knowing only the desire to own the power of others.
Her concern was real. He wanted to know more.

A small smile lifted one corner of her mouth—she found that happened more often than normal during her conversations with Taikon. That is a dangerous promise, she said playfully, although she was happy that he didn't seem to mind. She wondered if he had children of his own somewhere, but refrained from asking in case it brought up more from his past that he didn't wish to talk about. 

His question brought forth a sigh from the griff, and she shrugged her shoulders a little. In a way, yes she answered quietly. He wanted to control the entirety of the Sunspire mountains, and that was the basis on which we founded Diaspora. She looked out over the cliff, trying to gather her thoughts and explain it all to him properly. It was an ambitious dream, and one that the whole pack was willing to help facilitate. But it turned out to be much more difficult to turn Stigmata's dream into real life. Then the spring came and brought pups with it, including the four of ours, and it made things difficult. I found out later that I wasn't the only female in the pack he had pups with. Her face hardened at the memory. We never really defined anything, but I had no idea those were his plans, and I was angry with him for further dividing his time. I also felt disrespected—it lead to a fight between us. She shook her head. He was stretched too thin and was killed by a moose, at least that is our assumption. He was dead when we found him. She regretted how strained things had been between them before he died, even if it was his fault. More than anything, she hated that her children had grown up without their father. Stretched thin or not, he was a valuable piece of their life that would be missing forever. It brings up a lot of bad memories and feelings, she said after a moment, avoiding his gaze. I don't like to talk about it.

She sighed. Taikon shifted slightly to his side so that his legs were more relaxed, splayed in a posture that he could have taken a nap in if he laid his head down. His eyes remained alert as he listened to her tale. She spoke of Diaspora, of the dream and the great ambition that he had convinced perhaps her and an entire pack of. To control the Sunspires would take numbers far beyond what Taikon had seen since leaving Faruka. The Kingdom only had that level of manpower because they had enslaved or converted everyone around them.
He made an audible wincing face when she mentioned off hand that her ex husband had cheated on her. This was something Taikon felt very strongly about. He knew many men and women who had been unfaithful to their partners. It was something that had never made sense to him, for he believed that wolves were wired for monogamy. He couldn't imagine ever being unfaithful to someone he loved, though he doubted that love would even find him ever again.
"—it lead to a fight between us." No kidding.. he said quietly, while she continued on. Killed by a moose. What an anti-climactic, terrible way to end things. He felt angry on her behalf, but said nothing. There was a moment of silence between them that felt thick and raw in the air. Takiyok would not look at him, and he didn't blame her. She had shared a lot. It was a painful past, and no doubt, it had worn heavy on her and her children.
Thank you... for telling me, he said slowly, swallowing. It was a lot to share and a lot to listen to. These were their conversations. Intense. Dramatic. Yet somehow their friendship had proved simple to maintain. Part of him wanted to tell her that he sounded like a complete piece of shit, but it was not the time and likely never would be. He felt rather thankful that he had not asked her whether or not she was single the day they met, for it might have dredged this all up then, too. Your daughter... Simmik. Ambition isn't a bad thing. Or, at least, it doesn't have to be, he said calmly. He didn't know what it was like to be fearful of your children taking paths you didn't want them to, paths that could lead to their downfall.

She felt a little guilty for possibly souring someone to Stigmata now that he was dead. There were many things about him that were good, too, it was just before his end, there had been so many issues, and now they would never be resolved; it was hard to move on from all that resentment, no matter how much time passed. As usual, Taikon proved to be a good listener, voicing his agreement when she stated that she and Stigmata had fought over his choice to be with someone else in addition to her. And when it was clear that she was having difficulty talking about him, her friend directed the conversation to her daughter instead. 

No it doesn't, not when applied properly, she agreed. But Simmik is young still—very impulsive and strong-willed; she always has been. She shook her head, although it was clear she wasn't too annoyed by it. She left of her own volition when she was six months old. She was struggling with her father's death, as we all were, and instead of reaching out, she ran away. This was not something she was proud of, in fact, she was still quite furious with her daughter over it even if she had tried to conceal her anger when they had finally been reunited. She ended up finding a pack and making a life for herself, and I'm grateful she did, but her decision was so reckless; it could have ended so many other ways, and I don't think she realizes how lucky she is that she found someone good who took her in. Worry filled her expression. I didn't hear from her for a long time; I had no idea what had become of her, and I know she feels guilty for that, but it doesn't erase how difficult it was for her family after she left. Yet another tough conversation she wasn't all that fond of discussing. She found us again just before we left Sawtooth Spire, and she was all grown and serious, but I know her, and I just worry. She worried about all her children all the time; it was the mother's curse. 

She silently searched his face for a few moments. I don't usually talk about these things, she finally said. It's easier not to, but it is nice to have someone to listen. So, thank you.

Simmik's early rogue behaviour had clearly cut the mother deeply. Taikon nodded as Takiyok told this story, finding it difficult to fully understand the pain of a child leaving, but likening it in his mind to disloyalty and betrayal. Very lucky, he followed, nodding with a knowing expression. Any number of things could have happened to a girl at six months old. Taikon recalled what his mother had done with such girls; if they were pretty, they were often kept as servants of the royal family. If not, they acted as slaves to nobility and were sometimes traded for other goods from neighbouring peoples.
Some were treated well. Others, not so much. Regardless, such girls never knew a lick of freedom until their lives were spent.
Taikon nodded, knowing that such a girl would have a lot of growing to do yet. Yearlings were always of the mind that they had everything figured out. From his own experiences, he knew this wasn't the case. Yearlings were idiots.
Of course, he said when she thanked him. He rose from his spot and came closer to her, dropping his head to gently groom the back of her ear. It was a brief, tender touch. He sat beside her so they were lightly touching, settling back down. Who knew so much crap could be rattling around in both our heads, he said, a thin smile creeping over his face. With that, he rested his head on his paws, unwilling to leave her side.

He got up and offered a quick but comforting touch to the back of her ear, and she leaned into the affection. He spoke as he settled down closer to her, and she sighed a little in response. It seems life has not been very kind to either of us, she added. She returned his affection, copying what he had done and grooming just below his ear. She yawned and settled her head across the back of his shoulders unless he made a move that told her was not okay with her using him as a pillow. 

Whatever restlessness had kept her awake before they had talked was soothed enough that sleepiness fogged the edges of her mind. She yawned again, against his back, her eyes suddenly feeling heavy. She would, of course, stay awake if he had more things to talk about. Otherwise, she was content to fall asleep right there as long as he was too. 

fade here? then they can have an updated one!

Yee yee yee I will archive this and start a new one <3

She was right. Life had been cruel to the two of them. One of the things he appreciated about their conversations was that there was never a contest between them of who had experienced more hardship. They just listened to each other. It felt good to be close to her properly, as though they were family that had just been separated for a long time. Her tough was pleasant and natural. There were no questions or hidden meanings in it. He leaned into it, just as she had.
Her yawn was contagious, and he found himself growing tired in the night air. Her head was resting on him, and she felt warm and good beside him. It made living on his own for as long as he did look sad and much more miserable than it really was. He felt her put more weight on him as she started to drift away, and he breathed out a long, wonderful sigh. He felt his body relax and let sleep take him. For the first time in a while, he felt content.