Moonspear where has thout been through

Nightmares were a horrible plague that haunted Desdemona's dreams for the past few days. While the first few nights felt alright, the exhaustion was coming through. Her mind felt stressed, as she dealt with the heat, the patrols, the hunts, the spars, the communication.. A more social need this time, she saught out, but with an awkward pace in the right direction. The thoughts on needing to prove herself useful to the Queen, and feeling inadequate to what she had done.

Her head pounded as the morning came to be and shined down with a warmth, but a cold breathe snowed the air as Desdemona sighed to the sun. However it was a short awakening, as her long ears sprung up in alert, and jaded eyes cautiously, and shockingly gazed ahead, "Othello?" She called out in a whisper, almost not believing the name had slipped out. Though the figure, but faint, had been seen, and a wisp of his tail mockingly flicked itself in her direction, beckoning over. A white ghost, a beautiful bastard who she chased within the reality of dreams, and the hope of the past, "Othello!" Her voice rang out as she instantly sprung up, to lunge toward the silver streak.

His name repeating, Othello, Othello, oh my Othello, where have you been?

Desdemona is running outside of Moonspear, in the span of 3 days if no one intercepts she will leave the territory!

Better at covering ground lower on the mountain, and prone to frequenting the borderlands anyway, as the sun began to climb for the way, she worked her way down the slopes to do just that. Once there, naturally, the yearling picked up the mindset of her patrol and went about her business--content, and relatively undisturbed despite the snow and the cold.

She had only begun to consider sniffing out her brother's trail and seeing if he might want to join her pursuits for the rest of the morning to come, but likely, he was off on different ventures today so she staved that want of company away for now. Thankfully, way of a fresh-enough trail of someone else of the Moonspear crossed her path, and she was quick after that promise of distraction, trotting onward until she was sure this was a worthwhile venture.

Without knowing the other particularly well, nothing besides what scent told her, Opalia could only presume.. so she tried not to make it seem like she was lurking after the other. She alternated between a canter and a quick jog, and soon thought she could see the stranger. And, had she heard a voice? She thought she had only scented one wolf.. but who knew; Opalia wasn't familiar enough with what was considered typical to know better.

Tilting her head curiously, and dropping down her gait to a walk, she started to close some of their distance dead-on--her attempt to find out more. Hei.. she called out lightly to test the metaphorical waters, her greeting obvious enough despite it all. She kept a neutral poise.. one that almost bordered on a hint of cautious.

A voice stopped her tracks and she turned with a desperate look, "please." Her voice was full of enmity but saddened as the dream continue to within her mind, and even though the other was not who she thought of, her delusions continued on. Fustration crept from her mouth with a growl, and darted to the noise, only assuming the one who spoke could be him. The words weren't processed, and the smell drifted away, for all she cared about was to finally, finally capture him.

Only a few pale figures came to mind, and one she knew of Moonspear, but this lady was an unforunate one that Desdemona did not know of. Pale, but lighter then the one she sought for, but enough to where she was maddened with fog to think so. She leapt, at Opalia, raging, "Othello!"

Her ears turned sharply. Had she misheard? What was even happening here? Her nostrils flared and she felt her eyes narrow, darting to assess this situation as quickly as she might be able. The stranger had regarded her, true, but none of it really fell into place for what should be typical.. neither did she have long enough to decipher more. Instead, receiving the wolf leaping towards her, she widened her eyes anew and ridged her hackles.

Othello? Yeah, not her was her last thought before Opalia realized she was really coming at her like that. Chil au daun..! she barked and clicked her teeth hard, reflexively forward with the suggestion to calm down, though in the surprise of the moment, it jumped from her in trigedasleng as she grimaced warily. She was far too new here, and did not intend to have trouble find her accidentally.. but this wolf smelled like pack (and Opalia did too now), why was she acting like this? What happened? So Opalia aimed to side-step away from the enraged wolf, head lowering defensively. She would answer anything worse with equal measure, but she at least wanted to be credited as herself for anything that ensued--not Othello. I don't know what's going on here but.. I don't know any Othello, she tried to edge in, if the other even really let her get that far.

Her aim wasn't precise, a desperate attempt of capture that landed Desdemona falling into the snow, cooling down the dissaray of flames. Headfirst into the sheet of winter, she quickly scrambled up to catch his glimpse before his fade, however he was gone, for he was never here, only a nightmare that sent an illusion. Before her was a pale wolf, but not of silvers and whites, but honey and sand, "I," she choked, "I'm sorry."

She knew, Othello couldn't be here. No mere wolf could simply trespess and go so far without being stopped, even if one sly as him, a scent cannot be hidden. Gingerly she got up, Desdemona realized her mistake and offered her apologies again, "I'm sorry, I mistaken you as someone else and attacked." She knew it wasn't an excuse, but an explanation to her confusion and sudden pounce, to which her head dipped low to a bow for condolences to the tan beauty. Eyes kept low, and mind was miles away, for her thoughts continued onto him. Othello, where are you?

The pale mercenary stayed light on her feet, ready to spring if pushed--either away, or in response--and warily eyeballed the wolf as she moved to recollect herself. What had she just bore witness to, exactly? For that moment, Opalia was speechless.. and relieved to not be on the receiving end of an unwarranted charge, but certainly, brewing a whole slew of questions. 

Carefully, now that apologies had begun, she took a small step closer as a signal of her attempt at trusting the truce. The guarded look didn't quite leave her, though. It's fine, she replied through a sigh-turned-huff, having splayed out her ears awkwardly now that the pressure seemed to be off. I mean, I am not against some friendly fire and all, but.. that was not the fight I expected to find, she elaborated. Evidently, it was not a fight for her and she was increasingly glad to have that case of mistaken identity past her. Who's Othello? You didn't seem too happy about them, she said, trying not to pry too blatantly and watching the dark wolfess keenly as she brought this up--this was still scarcely more than a stranger! But Opalia was just trying to move them past such an introduction as that.

Speaking of which, I'm Opalia, she provided, for something else to smooth it with.

She rose her head, stone-faced as the other awkwardly continued, understandibly so, on a conversation. Though eased, as the other came closer in a sort of truce, especially since being attacked, Desdemona would think the two would hold a more familiar impression on each other, "You do not need to worry anymore." She did feel anxious on the situation, terribly so, but wouldn't let it show; an awful mistake of delusion that came forth from nightmares. She almost wished however, it was true. Though, she shown hesitation to explain the issue, and firstly introduced herself, "I am Desdemona."

"Othello is," however, especially after attacking Opalia, the lady deserved an explanation, "my brother." Her past was still hidden, an untold tale that bluntly haunted her, and formed to who she currently was; submissive, cold and serious. Desdemona desired to move past it, but terrors will always plague, especially with him lurking within her dreams.

Opalia might not appreciate surprises, but it would take more than one misplaced fury to wither her completely, so she was trying not to let one weird bit color it. True, by the moment, and the more she heard, she could hope to take that edge off some though. Instead she was just growing more curious about it all, which worked. Everything about the mountain and its inhabitants was still so new to her, how else could she take it in?

She wouldn't worry, she supposed. She could give Desdemona that without any resistance. Her nod was slow anyway, yet earnest. 

But, brother. Othello was her brother. That was something and she could use that for a start. Is he here? she asked, first, just to rule it out or not to gauge this further--how pressing of a matter was this to the moment and how she ought to handle such. She hadn't heard anyone mention him, if he was, so that was probably for the best. Then again, all of this.. whatever it was, was news to her. Her own brother was here though, and he didn't make her go completely feral on sight at anyone at least.. so this mysterious Othello had to be a lot worse than what she had with Dacio, luckily.

"No." It was a rather quick responds that ended a more colder note then intended, "I have not seen him for many years." This wasn't the first incident of a delusional mirage of Othello; the last time had happened was near the end of Morningside. She thought his ghost was near, and spent quite a while chasing after it, months had gone by before realizing what she had done. Chasing the shadows, for not only Othello, but her sister as well. 

Though when she came back, her lifestyle of the Morningside had changed. The Pack she had set hope onto had disbanded, and no one was there to greet her. Desdemona stood within that forest for so long, that she had once again left with no aim, only to come back to Moonspear. Thankfully, her experience in the previous pack was not in vain, as the cerberus was a previous acquaintance. Now, she serves them.

"Do you have siblings?"

An answer like that set down so heavily left her no room for doubt, question, or otherwise, so moving right on along--Oh. Does he still.. well, bother you like that..? she asked, trying to place it gently but still mostly really unsure how to understand, or phrase herself and what that even was. Her ears stayed tipped back, uncertain of herself a touch but.. trying. Was she haunted by him still? Opalia tried to liken it to something like how past commander's shared across the ages through dreams and visions, but that, to her upbringing, was simply an extenuating circumstance. She couldn't tell if this was what this was; her worldly experience not yet that vast and even unable to tell quite what she was looking at left a lot of room to doubt herself.

I do. My brother Dacio is here with me, she answered, wondering how much to share--if the distraction was welcome in any way, or if Desdemona had anything to gain from having the words off her chest about her long gone brother Othello. Something about her delivery didn't make her too hopeful but her siblings had been a large part of her life, always. My others are.. all over, I haven't seen them in a long time.. or so she could only imagine.

In these days, neither of her full sisters left her in a good place sentiments-wise. Sequoia had always irritated her and justified it all in what her leave contributed to, and Dalia had sealed her fate when she joined up with the Rusalkans.. so Opalia could have nothing to do with that. She knew she had an older brother called Sirio off somewhere too.. but he was far removed from her family, dead or alive. As for others, the.. other siblings like Blixen and Artaax especially, she wondered about them now and again. She knew something had been there, dimly at one point once she was old enough to start to connect those dots.. it was obvious enough looking at Artaax, who would probably only grow to look more like Dad as the years passed and he defeated his enemies. 

So, point remained--besides a few, she willed them well, somehow. May they meet again, she supposed. Most of them, anyway. Some may get to meet her teeth.. but she was fine with this too. Drageda had raised her as such, of course.

"Bother.." Desdemona muttered, as she thought on the question. She felt that wasn't correct way to phrase, as he never was a bother, nor' even was around enough to be one, "no." Absent from her life, she felt more of regret to not know her brother more then she should've, "a haunting regret."

"Cherish him," just as she hadn't, " you have a large family, I persume?" She did not have the luck to be born into such life, but instead the ones being created. Desdemona couldn't deny it was interesting, to see how large one family could be, and how many connected in the end. Even many in Moonspear, bare the name Ostrega, "are the rest near?"

A haunting regret. It was weightier than she felt equipped to deal with, inexperience considered. She didn't know her other brothers well enough to have any regret about her relationship or memories with them. It was simply nothing and it wasn't something she was feeling too envious about if it had Desdemona all torn up and feeling as such... Sounds bad, she murmured, ears turned back. Picking at the subject didn't feel too right, so Opalia left that much up to her--and she would be quite willing to listen should she see it fit to share anything, but she wouldn't press. Maybe it was a timing thing, or best left to her..? If you ever need to vent, I'd listen, she suggested lightly. Or can help work off the frustrations with you, anytime, she tried to offer as carefully as she could (not the most delicate of sorts in her presentation) for such a new acquaintance on the mountain she barely knew--even so, for a companion in a lot of physical things, from the fight to the hunt, Opalia was often game to try given her own upbringing.

I intend to, she replied about cherishing her brother, adding in a deep nod and sharp look. Of everyone, he had always been more steadfast than any--and she hoped to be the same for him. Anyway, it was largely thanks to her sire's forays that she could confirm what Desdemona assumed of her. I do, but I do not even know most of them. Even of those I did know.. no, none besides Dacio are around anymore. Her mother dead, father returned back to unknown fate in Trigeda with the handful of her half-siblings that had raised up well in Drageda... which didn't even begin to account for all those that came before their time. There was Sequoia and Dalia scattered off to somewhere too, but it was probably best not to remember them. Sirio was hardly even family.. still, there were a lot of them. Her father had been generous and yet it had still whittled down to only her and Dacio now.

She thought on it, "i'd like to take up your offer to vent." However sbe wasn't one for the emotional support, as she wasn't ready to let it be known what her complete past had been through. Desdemona, unadmittingly, afraid to how others would react to the past she carried with a heavy heart. None too many had asked, besides the brief nightmares upon her brother, but besides that, a silence she enjoyed, "a spar, perhaps." Though a good beating, to herself or another, is a stress-reliever. She often pushed herself to guard to forgot what needs to be forgotten.

She nodded, proud of the girl to do so, as she had not. Perhaps the spider was pushing her own regrets upon the little lady, but it sounded of advice, so even to herself, Desdemona did not notice. She also knew many of these wilds had a very large family, the Ostrega being one, "are you from a famed lineage?" she couldn't help but hide a bit of curiosity to where she had come from. Though most likely the dark wolf would not know of it, as she had little knowledge outside her small world of Moonspear and Morningside. Not too many loners have been met, as she preferred the comforts of patrolling inside the territory, "I assume Dacio is here as well."

"

Desdemona did accept her offer, and the pale Roankru's ears flicked up tall to christen the nod to follow. While willingness could get her so far, she had to find out what this would mean for the dark wolfess before she could navigate the waters. A spar is good, she brightened immediately, latching readily onto the promise of a very familiar language for her that she spoke fluently; she knew how to work out irritation that way and her outlook on Desdemona's struggles shifted somewhat with this to consider, now wondering how to help her past them with physicality--how it may manifest. I train as a mercenary, too. Always have, and I learned to value it, she mentioned, pride in her eyes despite the modest stance she kept. For duty.. and giving an escape both, she nodded. 

As for her lineage, she gave a thoughtful hm. Famed.. I don't know if I could say that, but maybe to someone, somewhere. There seemed to be a lot I don't know, for whatever reason. Opalia had never been able to pin it down exactly, and her time with her parents seemed far too brief now that she looked back. If only she had known the right things to ask then. I just know I have a lot of siblings, and my father was a mature wolf by the time my litter came about. But we were my mother's last, she's gone. Him.. I don't know, she elaborated, determined not to feel sad about it here since it certainly did not answer anything.

"It is a relaxtion." A rough one however, but it truly felt like letting off steam. Emotions into hits, anger into fangs, running can only do so much, but with sparring, it completes the whole. Though she had minor training, it was not as well as perhaps Opalia, as the spider was beaten more then trained- only trying to defend. A meat-shield for the lot, and she still felt the same, that she can be a shield for Moonspear, and hope to be a guard.

"I see," she did not have much to say on the matter, for what was there to say? The other had her own shadows, per' her assumptions, with the various lost siblings and the missing father. As well as the mother who had seemingly passed, Opalia was alone except for her brother. Desdemona wondered how the fellow was, were they similar, or different? The pale wolf was rather kind, and talkative, it helped her kept mind off of the topic of her brother, so while normally not enjoying it, she was thankful for the banter.

"Are you ready?" The spider was still battle-ready.

Opalia could find a some solace in feeling like they might be on about the same page here--at least in nearby whereabouts as she nodded yet again, and exhaled a big breath to prepare for the next turn of things to come. It was good to have this bit of an understanding, now. Far more than before, and faced with this opportunity to know her even better through the language of physicality, the Roankru was ready to find out more. She only had her assumptions to have about a new opponent, and she tried not to seem too keen with the roving look in her dual-toned glance.

Was she ready? Indeed. Opalia nodded softly, and as her chin lowered in the motion, she sprang off to her own right, aiming to dart for the first offensive move of a lunge with teeth snaps for Desdemona's left side--or wherever else the exchange could find them in the seconds after it all began. She did want her opponent to answer back before she could say for sure what the pace of this would be, given their reasons here at all. Opalia wouldn't follow through with anything serious yet, content to keep stakes low yet eager to brawl nonetheless, but she wasn't afraid to clack her teeth around or have them come back her way either. She had a good feeling Desdemona would understand this soon, and if not, then they were in prime position to work it out.