Ankyra Sound i kill with my heart

Backdated to after the leadership meeting thread. @Caiaphas

the ghost was not looking forward to the conversation he had prepared himself to have with his mother. he had hoped to keep their relationship as pleasant as he possibly could. for all the time that they had missed together, he did not believe that fighting against her would shine a positive light on him. still, he worried for their safety. he worried more that they would lose their home again. all he could think about were the days that they'd spent traveling in search of something else, and then to the wolves of easthollow... the ones who had turned them away. he could not do it again.

breathing heavily as he jogged the stretch of the coast, the young man turned toward where he imagined his mother would be: the caverns. the dank smell of sea water and stone filled the air the closer that he got. stepping inside, he chuffed softly for her and waited to see if he would be met with a response.

sleep came in fitful bursts for the siren; not for the first time was her slumber stolen from her by the soft patter of paws overhead. caiaphas' hawk yellow eyes opened wide, and with a grimace, the sylph propped herself onto her belly with a grunt.

the steps approaching her were easy to identify as her son's -- sucking in a breath and attempting to maintain a pain-free facade, caiaphas watched the entrance where he would soon appear, wondering just what it was that made his footsteps sound so heavy.

he found the entrance swiftly enough, slowing his pace some as he drew closer. he could hear her rustling from within and he wondered if he was interrupting some much-needed rest. knowing that it was not a conversation that could wait, illidan poked his head inside before entering all the way. his features were weary for one as youthful as he was. his eyes seemed to carry the weight of hours and hours of missed sleep.

still, he offered her the softest smile and dipped his head. it did not matter that he still held a rank in leadership; she was his mother, and she had more than earned his respect. it did very little to soften the conversation that lingered in the back of his mind. she had always spoken to him without frilly words or unnecessary confidence. illidan believed that he should speak to her the same way.

“we need to stay low for a while, ma... we need to stay low or we're going to lose our home and...” i don't know if i've got the strength to do that again. i don't know if i'll survive it, this time. illidan shook his head and breathed a heavy sigh. “they were discussing moving all of the pregnant women and separating the pack. they spoke about moving us all away from the sound. i argued, but only with a promise that i'd speak to you about it.” his voice was gravelly and weak – just as exhausted as his hawkish gaze seemed to be. he waited quietly to see if she would speak before he moved on.

caiaphas' slim ear bent towards her son, absorbing the tone. he seemed tired -- dreadfully tired. her hawkbit gaze assessed his features momentarily, and then moved to her paws in grim silence.

he was so young to have such a grave disposition. as sorrowful as it was to witness a childhood lost, caiaphas still had nothing but high hopes for illidan's command: he was respectful, he was experienced, and he was far more resilient than he knew. of her brood, he showed the most promise as a leader, for he was not as rash as svalinn and not as quick to fight as raleska.

"you've done well." she muttered, fixing him with an approving gaze. "and not to worry. we go nowhere. pregnant women cannot run, and are easily butchered. they are either full of hot air, as men in desperate times often are, or they will see their folly in the morning."

the world combined with the hands of fate had crafted a peculiar creature out of illidan. he was not just tired; the boy was burning with an intense exhaustion that he did not know how to rid himself of. it seemed as though that harrowing pain had found a home inside of him. it had taken root in his bones and shaped him into the wild creature that he was. tired and far too young for such heavy burdens, but still able to survive in the most terrible of conditions. a gift that only seemed to take.

illidan listened to her with a sad expression. he believed that she was right. all of the points that she made were the very same that he had brought up to firefly and rosalyn. still, he understood where their concerns stemmed from. he was more concerned with the idea that they would threaten to split the home and family that had been created in rusalka.

“i only want us to succeed. we cannot do that by picking small fights with the wolves on the cliff,” he reminded her solemnly. “and this pack would be nothing without you...” the words slipped from his mouth before he had a chance to catch himself. “you cannot risk losing your life to those pathetic monsters. you will put us at a great deficit and... i will not watch another one of my parents die.” it was then that the ghost clenched his jaw tightly and turned his gaze away from her.

illidan did not want to admit to her that he was afraid, so he held his tongue and bit back on the emotions that burned beneath his flesh.

he was so solemn for a wolf his age -- just shy of a year, illidan was already twice the man most men hoped to be on their deathbed. it brought a sad but proud smile to the siren's features. he may have been molded by hardships, but he was not lessened for it.

rarer yet was the act of a child scolding its mother; caiaphas endured his scolding with a bemused expression, for he was wholly right. they would accomplish little, picking little spats. as illidan looked away, overwhelmed, caiaphas followed his gaze -- sadness solemnly filling the bright depths of her hawkish gaze. "i will die, but not at the hands of drageda dogs." she lifted her proud face, bearing the wound vercingetorix had gifted her: "this is the best they could do. we are better. we will live, and you will get to see your lovely old mother die after a long and enjoyable life.. just promise me then, that you will let me go to the sea." she shared a thin smile with the boy, placing a paw besides illidan's own as she sought his gaze: "i will stay low for a while, but only for you."

even if she had vocalized her feelings about how he had grown into a good man, illidan would never have believed it. he considered himself far too damaged to be of much use to most others. in spite of this, there was a survivalist within him that forced him to move forward as well as he could. he had come to peace with the idea that he did not need to think highly of himself to continue on his path. he preferred the life of a ghost; it was simpler when he could pass through without touching the lives of anyone else.

still, caiaphas was one thing that he could not seem to pull himself away from. after his separation from her, he felt a magnetic need to belong at her side and to show her that he needed her. to hear that she would die did nothing but cause his stomach to churn and his heart to sink into his chest. “we will live, but only if we do so together,” he reminded her with a nod. when she agreed to his request, the boy bowed lower than he had before and breathed a deep sigh. the weight in his shoulders was lightened some; just enough for them to drop a few inches.

“thank you...” the ghost breathed softly to her.

the thing about living things, is that they are all damaged. life is trauma -- in its purest, most unadulterated state, it still manages to cleave those that experience it, and eventually leaves them all together. caiaphas, just old enough to be retrospective about her own mortality (and that of her children's) shared a soft, solemn smile -- for they were luckier than most even if they had endured incredible hardships.

her son was enduring. her daughter too. they had faced more together than most families had in a lifetime, and had shaken free the grapples of suffering and adversity. caiaphas was colder for it. illidan was stronger yet.

as illidan's shoulder's sank and the tension fled his figure like a ghost, caiaphas slipped to the ground and acknowledged his thanks with a silent nod. she placed her thin arms out in front of her and lifted her proud muzzle to the wind, which rifled through her cheeks and fur and brought with it the hint of a distant, balmy sea.

life, it seemed, was worth living. she would stick around a while longer.

she was silent. if the boy could hear her thoughts, he would have been crushed to think that her children were her reason to live on. it was fortunate that she did not voice these things. even more so, it was fortunate that illidan did not understand them. life had been cruel enough to the young man. he did not know how much strength remained in his figure to continue on in the face of further adversity. it was surprising how resilient he had become in a single year of life. such things did not come without a heavy price, though.

with a quiet sigh, the boy turned his attention away from her and to the winds that carried the scent of saline. it had taken him time to grow used to the smell of the ocean again, but he did not know that he could turn away from it after having called it home for that long. instinct told him to wander – it was in his blood – but he smothered these feelings for the greater good of his family and his home. that was how it was supposed to be, was it not? sacrifices were intended to be made for the well being of others.

“are you happy here?” he asked her quietly.

for a while the two remained in silence, the only noise the hum of the dark sea and the soft susurrus of the wind. she was not a woman predisposed to filling in silence with idle chatter, and would have remained quiet a while longer had illidan not spoken.

happy? the siren's eyes snapped from the sea to her son, sharp as thorns. she did not think of happy. he could have two answers. he could have the answer he wanted to hear, or he could have the truth.

"no." she said at length, an edge to her voice. she was unhappy with the destruction of her family. she was unhappy with the death of her mate. she was unhappy with what drageda had cost them. she was unhappy with the way her life, day by day, drew closer to its closure.  "but life goes on. i learned a long time ago to read between the lines -- often it's not the answers that are important, but the way a question is phrased." she turned her falcon-yellow gaze to her son, the wolf in so many ways that was like and so unlike her. "you are unhappy. why?"

’no.’
 
the word seemed as though it had been waiting on the tip of her tongue before the question had even been asked. he had wanted another answer, but he could not have been disappointed in the one he’d gotten. her honesty was only appreciated. as grateful as he was, illidan could not help but feel the bitter sting of that single word and the weight that it carried. it was one thing to assume unhappiness in another, but it was an entirely different thing to have that confirmed.
 
caiaphas muttered something to him that sounded like an empty life lesson. surely, it had meaning… but illidan was not in the mood to listen to such things, or to retain the value of their lessons. he was more surprised that his question had been turned back to him. her pointed stare felt like fire on his pelt.
 
“i don’t know…” he started in a quiet voice. the words hitched against the back of his throat before he gritted his teeth and shook his head. it took a moment to steady himself. when he looked back to her, it was with a new hardness to his gaze. “i do not know if i have been anything but unhappy.” tit for tat; if she would share her honesty with him, then he had no reason to give her anything different.

caiaphas caught the bob in her son's throat, the way his words hitched against dark flesh. her eyes narrowed, while her lips pursed in a thin gesture of displeasure. no wolf alive could deny the hardships illidan had faced early on: he and his siblings had a cursed childhood, and unfortunately, there was no undoing what had been done.

yet neither was there any sense wallowing in it; a younger caiaphas might slink mindlessly into her own depressions, but older, wiser (really?) caiaphas knew there was little use in emotions save for the conscious momentum it contributed to their lives. life might be shitty -- but what you made of it was something else. "it is time you put it behind you." caiaphas spoke grimly, her tone unhelpful: illidan had been emotional long enough, and she had watched as she felt her son drift further and further away. "life does not get easier."