Ravensblood Forest daddy's getting hot [ part i ]

after doubling back to grab their stash of reading bones and stones, the dreadfather finds a hidden place to store them. though they'd rather keep them close they also are not sure how their religious practices will be taken in this pack, especially given that they believed there to be some hesitancy around the words they had thrown about to vagabond upon their initiation progress.

for now, or at least until they feel comfortable, they will keep their rituals and religious readings at bay.

after their collection is tucked safely away, they contribute in the other way they know how: by patrolling the borders, using it as a double edged sword: to become familiar with the forest they call home and it's borders. despite the distance between themselves and the wolves that have called this place home longer.

I could not resist, both because of Ash Paw being an absolute jerk and the title of the thread lmao. Well, Ash certainly is extreme it's either all consuming love or all consuming hate...there is no inbetween with this chicky. 

Ash Paw had smelled the other wolf recently, and then it grew in fervor and she realized rather dismally that the dreadfather had followed her. So with queenly air and haughty expression she went in search of him. Finding him upon their borders and though she appreciated it, she also was curious.

She stepped right into his way and stared at him with wide blue eyes. She lifted her head and spoke through minced words. Are you following me Dreadfather?:

She stared at him, his lack of pack discerning and she wondered briefly at it. He had a lover no, a nightwife if she recalled correctly. Then why was he away from her and his younglings. Why was he here. She could only think of two things. He was either absolutely obsessed with her or he wanted her dead. There was no inbetween and it rankled.

So she stood and waited, trying not to appear small as she felt. He was larger than she by far.

it does not surprise them to come across ash paw here: for it is recollection of the pack name that had ultimately drawn them here — though circumstances of their acceptance has been largely their own. if proven by the caution that they sense like the lingering tang of metal after a lightning storm.

her words rake over their spine like claws; but they feel only amusement.

no, they drawl; wily tug of their lips given. though i did recall the name of this place from our conversations.

Ash Paw eyed him with bright blue eyes. Wondering. Waiting. Though she needn't wait long before maw parted and he began to speak.

A smirk. Cunning. Wily. Slid along his dark crescent lips and she huffed in indignation.
Lifting her wofish brow higher.

She stared at him, trying to read beneath the words and she found nothing. So she eased somw and dipped her head.

What of your nightwife, your druids and children?

She warred between indecision and loathing before her life's work caught up to her.

Do they need a healer? I can help.

She had to force herself to offer. The thought of going into the bowels of darkness on an island she knew nothing about made her irked, but if someone needed care she would go.

she stares at them; and they wonder in that dark manner they are accustomed to if she could discern each face they wear: ever a thespian. the iron guardian, the lonely sentinel, the dreadfather, the cruel devil.

each facet that makes up them in their whole.

only a twitch of their scarred muzzle betrays them when she mentions their nightwife, their shadowchildren. a cool flash of yearning and murky sorrow burn like seaglass flames in their gaze before it darkens and their features morph into being carved from basalt.

their isolation has commanded they leave me. for a time. his nightwife would return to him...in time, they are sure. threads of time could not every fully separate them...but the dreadfather knows that for now this was the correct course of action.

Ash Paw couldn't see beneath the veneer of teh black and silver beast, but she could tell there was more to him than met the eye. Was he a mortal prison for a god as he thought. Doubtful. However, she wasn't one to discount that either. Why should she, her own beliefs were strange to others. So she would accept him for now. 

His muzzle twitched at the mention of his family, ,but that was all. Simple. Poignant. Over within seconds. So quick she wasn't even sure she had seen it to begin with anyway. There was a different look in his eye and she ghosted forward only to stop as his expression changed. And she too backed up as quick as he shut down. It was not her place to offer comfort to him. She wasn't even sure if she liked him.

Ash frowned and gave him a nod. I'm sorry all the same. I hope it isn't a long time. Loneliness is awful.

It was all encompassing. Painful. Hard to handle. It was maddening and sad. She herself was lonely, though she had no nighthusband or night wife. She had simply had a family adn they were all gone. Her mother died upon her birth. Her father not far after. Auntie Thistle fairly recently. All she had was Gunnar and he had his own issues to deal with. And they had never been close.

She huffed. Well none the less. I am glad you have joined us. I think they can learn from you.

It was as close to a complement he was getting.

they do not seek pity; it does not sit well within their chest: bubbling like a poisonous witch's brew despite that they know she does not mean it to be such. the urge to spurn it is strong and thinly, they resist. they accept it ( perhaps begrudgingly ) with a grunt and a minuscule inclination of their head.

they do not like lingering in the realm of neglect and loneliness, having never truly been alone. the voidwraiths speak to them: in their waking and their slumber.

at her last words a snort does leave the dreadfather's lips. i was met with ...what i sensed to be unease, uncertainty when i brought up my ...priesthood. 'priest' was putting it in a manner that made it seem sacrosanct: and it was, to him. though perhaps it was the name the dreadfather was what put vagabond off. for now, i will keep my faith and my rituals to myself.

though they are aware that many would find the ritualistic way in which the dreadfather lived their life to be unsettling. they had anticipated this.

Ash Paw wanted to chuckle at the Dreadfather. He was clearly unhappy with her kindness, and wanted to move on as quickly as possible. Did the male even have a kind bone in his body? She was thinking not.

Ash Paw nodded her head. I was as well. Well Dreadfather is quite a dreary name. It suits you when you were part of your island, but perhaps not now and here. Though I know you probably find that distasteful.

He was rather attached to his name, it was strange to Ash to find such importance with a name, that made very little sense to her and it was horrifying really, such a name. 

For what it's worth though. They tolerate my rituals and faith and I believe fairly strongly in my gods and goddesses.

they do not agree with the statement of 'dreadfather' being dreary. it fits them perfectly, as far as they are concerned. there were worse things to call oneself ...but they digressed with a soft breath.

it will always suit me, they speak, salmon pink tongue drawling across their scarred lips. i will always be the dreadfather, whether i am on my islands or not. that part could not — would not! — be carved from their being. it is a holy rot that sinks too deep: into their soul tethers, into the marrow of their bones.

for now, perhaps, it is safer to practice in quiet, in secret, even...if they must. i will offer them my skills as a warrior until i feel more comfortable. though they are far from ashamed they know that they do not yet have a strong hold within this pack and they do not feel confident enough ( yet ) to push the limits.

in time, no doubt.

walk my patrol with me? it is an open invitation, emphasized by a small gesture of their muzzle, though they will not take it personally if she declines.

Everytime your thread title pops up. I crack up.

Ash Paw couldn't imagine putting such a moniker down. Dread such a strong, sad word. You don't wish to draw dread, though maybe if darkness encompasses you enough, you can be a bringer of dread. Perhaps that's why it sits upon him and he revels in it.

She understood now in a sense. It was him, a part of him. He was what he was named. A cold chill settled there on her back and chest.

She nodded. Perhaps he was right. She too didn't practice in the open of the pack lands. Though the one small girl had seemed fascinated at her religion all the same.

Okay. 

She stepped into position beside him. First time since their fight being so close. He towered above her. But most wolves did. Dainty sooty paw stepped into his larger footprints and she dipped her muzzle for him to lead the way.

^-^

she accepts their offer, to their muted surprise.

their beginnings had been rocky, to say the least, but their second encounter had been more ...cordial and now ( for better or worse ) they were packmates.

they set the pace at which they patrolled: steady but with purpose; aware that her legs were smaller.

tell me, they invite conversation, being sure to make it sound less like a command and more of an invitation as they intended. what do you know of this place from your time here? vagabond was ...vague. which was fine, the dreadfather supposes, but they are hungry to know of the pack they now call home and the wolves that form the pack.

Ash Paw was prickly and haughty and sometimes well for lack of a better word a cold hearted b**ch, but she was also willing to give second chances and the prickliness was mostly just to hide the soft heart that she was afraid would break. She was not used to be with anyone, sheltered and spoiled she had everything given to her and now she must fight for what she wanted. It was a humbling experience.

Ash Paw kept even pace with him, pleased that he was able to remember she was not large and lessen his stride to match hers. Otherwise she would have had to practically run to keep up with him, which would have been incredibly delightful said no one ever.

Ash Paw was surprised at his cordiality. Before he would have demanded an answer and be given her teeth, at least this time he simply asked.

She sighed and spoke softly. Not much I'm afraid. They are very private. Mostly familial it seems. I believe you and I maybe the only ones not related to them somehow. Though perhaps not, they have quite a few mystics here, more mystics than warriors it seems. They are perhaps too friendly at their borders. But They seem to mean well. Looking to carve a place for others and themselves.

seaglass gaze scans the unfamiliar terrain that borders the weeping red sap forest that they ( now ) call home. it makes them yearn for the coast, for the relentless waves and sand that they had, at first, could recall being hesitant about. they had grown up in the heart of the mainland ...and the island had seemed both disconnected and haunting in it's own way. until they had carved their home from it.

now, perhaps temporarily, it was abandoned. it was the path that they were to walk, at least for the moment.

a low grunt is given; disapproval thick in the set of his scarred lips. they should not be so private with wolves they have allowed in their ranks. though, they understand this is largely hypocritical of them to say. for until acoloytes earned their place among the druids, they were not privvy to much of the going-on's. but there was reason in their heavily spiritually driven pack. here, there did not seem to be that. at any rate, they are not concerned with how contradicting they sound.

what good is offering sanctuary to everyone if only those of flesh and blood are allowed to know what happens? to the dreadfather, this is a paradox and one they can not discern. a low grumble echoes within their chest. it was neither here nor there: they had been accepted in and where their path took them from here was not yet known.

the reading bones might offer them a clue... when next they got around to reading them; but even the threadbones could be wrong.

interesting. the dreadfather murmurs; contemplating what she has told them thus far.

Ash Paw had grown up near forests. And though she didn't have as much a love for the sands and beaches. It was growing on her much in the way it had to her auntie.

Ash Paw smiled softly. It maybe me as well, Dreadfather. In case you hadn't noticed. I can be a bit shall we say prickly? Hard to deal with?.

She shook her head at her own truths, but she knew it of herself. Amd despite that it was in some ways a flaw it protected her like armor too.

Bodies to make sure their family survives. was her soft answer. The more bodies they had, the more csre their family had. The more food.

a soft snort leaves the dreadfather; a small way of agreeing with her without verbally coming out and saying so. i could see that, they drawl; smoky timbre lilting with a tone that could be considered teasing. their steps pause as a scent catching their attention, head bowing to draw in the scents upon the borders.

sacrarium wolves and prey mingling together into an interesting aroma of predator and prey; made sickly sweet by the rich maple-like sap that bleeds from the trees.

well, they begin a low, rumbling murmur. collecting bodies only gets a pack so far. if there was disconnect, it wasn't likely the pack would survive. again, the urge to check the threadbones is strong; digging it's claws within the dreadfather with a sense of almost violent urgency. it presents itself in a strong twitch of his ear, of scarred lip.

the threadbones demand to be read. he offers just in case she has picked up on the strange, almost jerky movements of someone who is clearly making themselves do something despite that they didn't really want to: as if patrolling the borders was not a choice they had chosen but one that the voidwraiths chose for them, tugging them along as if they were a puppet on a string.

contributing in a way they knew how that had less to do with their beliefs was important but the priest within the dreadfather is — and always would be — stronger.

Ash gave a fake Pout to him, though her eyes were lighter. She knew it to be true. And he was at least polite enough to not completely agree. So that was 1 slash in the i dont hate you as severely column.

Ash shook head. I will have to bow to your wisdom in this. I'venever quite lived with a pack. It was only family.

When he first jerked she thought he was having a fit and she tightened her body to catch if she must, but it was not the lerching step of one who didn't know how to walk. It was a purposeful jerky walk.

His next words drew her pause and she studied him. May I watch or is that a part of your worship you must do privately?

i cannot worship myself, they tease lightly, retiterating back to the belief that they are the dreadfather in mortal flesh and bone. a twitch of their tail is given; followed by a soft gesture of their muzzle to communicate that they were deviating from the path of the well marked borders. towards the dark beating heart of the bleeding forest.

it does not have to be private, they speak now in hushed tones, as if the trees might whisper their words back to the daedra. perhaps they were. but your presence might influence the threads the bones reveal. at any rate, they were skilled enough to be able to discern the differences. luckily, i am a strong seer. a waifish grin is given as they lead the way.

i'll start a part ii for this thread soon ( before i leave work if i have time but definitely sometime tonight when i get home from work ); that way i can use this for warrior & the second one for the seer trades. feel free to either reply once more or simply archive as is. <3