Blackfeather Woods I wanna hate you

It felt as if centuries had passed since the death of their Queen, but it also seemed as if Blackfeather was beginning to heal. Scars would always remain, he knew, for to relieve themselves of the unseen marks was an unachievable goal. She had served as the leader for longer than any of the current members had resided within the pack—including himself—so to say she would be forever missed was the understatement of the millennium. They could not afford to live in a world of sorrows and pity for even a moment, as he felt that wasn’t something she would want. They were the wolves of Blackfeather, the greatest pack in all of Teekon, and not even the death of a respected leader could tear them down. It was that thought process that had him moving, carrying on with his daily routine each day and patrolling the borders as often as he could when he wasn’t thinking of ways to better himself as a Priest. There was also the task of looking after his son, though he found himself seeing less and less of the boy. Like himself, the young Inuit had been cursed with the need to explore, and so the elder did not hold him back. In fact, he encouraged it, as he revealed recently when he’d given him directions to a place the boy only ever passed through once. Kove wondered, then, how the younger wolf was doing, and if he’d reached the other forest yet or not.

Certain Alexander was doing just fine, the ghostly figure made his way through the woods, steps as light as that of a true spirit’s. His intentions were not to sneak up on anyone, though if he did, he didn’t think it would be too big of a deal. Those within the shadows knew the lifestyle they were taking on whenever they’d requested to join their ranks, therefore a few frights here and there couldn’t really be held against anyone. The Apaata man had not a clue of where his final destination was to be, though he eventually found himself heading in the direction of the crimson bushes. Never did he reach the inner territory, knowing well that none were currently permitted within it, but he did end up lingering around the outermost edges. Kove’s fiery gaze bore ahead in the direction he assumed housed the Queen’s body, but he dare not take a step forward. Instead, he just stood there, silently watching, though his eyes met nothing. They rested only upon the shadows that shrouded his pallid form, along with the trees that made up his home. Why he continued to watch was unknown, even to him, but even after realizing what he was doing, he did not carry on with his walk through the forest.

After a while of starring off into nothingness, he managed to pull his gaze away and turn to look upon something else. A sigh escaped him, then he turned around and headed in the direction of the borders, deciding it couldn’t hurt to wander near them for a little while. As he carried on along his usual path, memories hit him. Mainly of Meldresi, for she was the center of most thoughts currently, but then there come those of Scarlett. The Queen had allowed for him to leave the shadows in order to be with her, to create a pack that would serve Blackfeather and the Brotherhood, but it had all ended up falling apart. He’d failed the Priestess, and never would he be able to make it up to her. For that, he wanted to hate the albino woman. To paint her as the cause of his troubles and harbour nothing but animosity towards her—but he couldn’t. No matter how hard he tried, he was not able to do so, which aggravated him a bit, but one would never guess that when seeing his calm features. Kove attempted to focus his attention elsewhere while he headed towards the territory lines, though no matter how hard he tried, his mind would not wander onto different things. How frustrating it was, to wish to hate someone his conscious would not allow him to.

Upon the steps that lead towards the place where Meldresi's bones lay, Cicero found a familiar face. Cicero had kept to himself a lot of the time, but when he had gone out and found Kove close to his mother's grave, he wondered of Kove's thoughts — and fate. Burke and Kove did not get along well, from what Cicero had seen, and yet Burke was what kept Kove here. Perhaps it helped Kove that they had lost wolves as of late. Perhaps Burke would feel friendly enough. Or perhaps the only reason he had been snippy was because Meldresi's eventual death and all that he had on his plate.

Cicero pulled closer as he watched Kove, who seemed lost in thoughts. Always interested in hearing of others' turmoil — in part to help them, in part, perhaps, because it simply interested him — Cicero offered a mere nod before asking: "Something on Kove's mind today?" Perhaps he wished to speak of it, or perhaps he would act like everything was fine and cut into a different subject. Whatever the case, Cicero decided to allow him to lead the conversation where he pleased.

To speak his mind was not always the most appealing thing to do. There were often moments in which he much preferred being left alone to think, to figure things out and decide on matters without any outside voices interrupting him. He held nothing against anyone, it was simply the way he’d always been. A wolf who hid his emotions as often and as well as the Inuit did was bound to grow accustomed to a quiet lifestyle, and that he did. To keep to himself was a good thing every now and again, but occasionally it led to troubling situations, and even more troubling feelings. Keeping everything bottled up and locked away was unhealthy, both for the mind and body, and so there were days he sought out an ear to listen. It was not such a day for him, currently, yet he did not brush the younger male off. Instead, he returned the nod with that of his own, then contemplated his offer to hear the elder out. It was enticing, perhaps overly so, and soon had him turning his focus to the patchwork wolf.

The issue was not with sharing his inner turmoil, but with deciding exactly where to begin. Should it be with his sorrow over the death of the Queen, and how he didn’t believe he could ever repay her? Or, perhaps, his desire to hate that which he once loved—or continued to love, despite all that had happened. Feelings as strong as the ones he’d held were not so easily tossed away, he learned, yet he knew he needed and wanted to. They did him no good, he needed to move on. In the hopes that speaking of it might relieve him of his unrequited desire, Kove settled upon sharing with the boy the state of his emotions. A rarity, really, for one who was often so set on appearing to be without them.

“There is,” he finally admitted, hesitant at first to continue. It was not in his nature to share what filled his mind so easily, but considering how long he’d known the younger male, he felt it fine to make an exception. Just this once. “Have you ever cared so deeply for someone that not seeing them brought you pain? That you felt it was your sole purpose in life to protect them?” Again, he paused, settling his fiery gaze on the other in an unconscious attempt to gauge his reaction. It was second nature, by then, something he couldn’t quite help. “Tell me, Cicero, do you have any idea how to get rid of those feelings? It seems impossible right now, which is why I ask. Have any secret methods you’d like to share with me?” Honestly, he didn’t expect a response. He valued the younger’s thoughts, but was unable to believe he could provide the answers needed.

Kove seemed to complate whether the turmoil that was on his mind was something that he wished to share with Cicero. Cicero understood that, for it was not like they were good friend, and beside that Kove had seen Cicero grow up from a young age, so it made sense that he might not feel comfortable divulging personal information to someone he may still consider a pup, despite being a part of the adult ranks now. Eventually he seemed to decide to share what he needed to get off his chest, however, and when he did there was even a request for advice in his words, much to Cicero's surprise — and delight.

There was only one answer to Kove's heart-felt question. "Yes." His love for Damien ran deeper than anything else, and Damien was Cicero's anchor, the center of his world, the most important thing to him. In a way, Cicero could empathise with how Kove must feel. He linked Kove's feelings to Scarlett immediately, for she had been his mate and she had left him. If Damien were ever to leave, Cicero was not sure what he would do. "Cicero does not want to get rid of the deep feelings of love he feels," Cicero divulged with a smile. His expression fell as he somewhat apologetically added: "So Cicero has no secret methods or advice, other than to try and win her back, somehow, if these feelings of Kove feel as though they will never cease." That was what Cicero would likely do, were he ever in a position where he wished for the feelings to go away. If the person of his affections were still alive, he would hunt them down and make them love him, make it work, somehow; if they were dead, like his mother was, he would simply smile at the memories they had made, think of them often and fondly, and move on.

Kove could give only a stiff nod in return, the words being rolled over within his mind. The younger wished to keep hold of the feelings he had—for whoever they might be for—which the Inuit had expected would limit what other words he could share on the subject. Of course, it turned out that that wasn’t the case, which really shouldn’t have surprised him in even the slightest. At times, it often seemed Cicero possessed a wisdom that was far beyond his years, but such was a thing the elder often forgot. No matter, he could still appreciate his insight and what knowledge he was able to share, even if it might not be much for this particular subject.

For a moment longer, he thought the idea over, attempting to figure out if it was even worth it. Would his feelings cease to exist if he kept his distance? Would they grow to the point where they’d always remain if he saw her again? Nothing about the concept of “love” was concrete, which unsettled him greatly. It was common for those of his land to take a single mate until death forced them to part ways, and knowing that also had him thinking further. What if she held his heart still only because of that notion being present in his mind? He wanted to believe that might be the case, as it would make things much easier, but the truth of the matter was that he simply could not tell. He was incapable of figuring out the inner workings of his own heart, as ironic as that might be with all things considered. “And if I don’t know if the feelings will remain or not? Or if I’m not sure whether it would be a good thing to pursue her?” To others, it might seem strange, him taking the advice of someone younger than himself into careful consideration. For Kove, however, there was not an issue with it. He valued Cicero’s opinions, as well as all he might be able to provide information on.

Kove asked him more questions, clearly battling his own emotions. Cicero wondered what it would be like to live in a world where Damien lived across the Wilds and did not wish to have anything to do with him. It would be weird, and so Cicero found himself struggling to understand Kove's situation, exactly. If he were in a similar position, he would do whatever necessary to win Damien's affections back. Or perhaps the lack of love from his brother would eventually drive him to forget about his brother and move on. Therefore, only two options existed.

After looking thoughtful a moment, Cicero answered the questions: "If the feelings do not remain, then was it truly love?" Cicero asked, for the only sort of love he knew was blazing and passionate, an ever-present tension that longed to be satisfied. "Why would it not be a good thing? Because she does not return the love? Because she could never live here? These are all but small things if it is truly love that Kove feels." Not many things were set in stone for Cicero in this world, but love was such a powerful thing that he knew it to be true.

Cicero was right. If the feelings he’d once possessed were to die away so quickly, then could he honestly say he ever loved her? It troubled him greatly, for he did not know the workings of his own heart. He had thought, at one point, that he’d loved the albino woman. That she was the only one for him, and that he would never be able to stay at the side of anyone but her—but that wasn’t true, was it? He had not remained at her side. When it’d come down to it, his sister had taken priority over the woman he’d claimed to love. A bond formed from blood alone had lured him away from someone he had told held his heart. That sad thing was, he hadn’t even known his sister too well. She’d gone missing so early on in life that he’d never been given the chance to truly grow beside her, to learn all about her in their younger years. Yet, even still, news of her being alive had had him rushing back to the place he’d been born, leaving Scarlett behind.

The memory, again, posed the question of whether or not he had truly ever loved her. And, to be brutally honest, he was beginning to think he never had.

“I no longer know what it is, or was, that I felt for her,” Kove announced, the words leaving his mouth on a sigh. “Being away from her bothers me, but… I am beginning to wonder if it is actually her I don’t like being away from.” At one point or another, he had to have felt some sort of attraction towards her, for they’d gone so far as to create a family together. When things started to get ugly, however, he did not fight for her. He did not fight to earn back her affections or attempt to mend what was breaking or already broken—all he had done was let it all play out, then dealt with the aftermath alone. When someone truly loves another, would they not fight to stay by their side? He’d witnessed love between those in his birth pack before, how they had remained together until their lives reached their ends. That was something he had wanted. To experience that same sensation, to feel the urge to remain at the side of a single woman for the rest of his life, but he could not have that with Scarlett. He did not want that with Scarlett. “I can’t help but think that it’s not Scarlett I’m drawn to, but the fact that my daughters are with her.” The truth was being pulled to the surface, though the process was not nearly as fast-paced as he secretly wished it to be.

Kove came to conclusion simply milling things over in his head and thinking aloud, a thing that pleased Cicero. He nodded occasionally while he listened, his role as advisor not as necessary now that Kove was making progress on his own. Then he came to the conclusion that it was his daughters that he missed, not their mother.

Cicero's eyes narrowed, brows scrunching together briefly while he thought of Desna. Cicero closed his eyes for half a second while violence flashed on the inside of his eyelids, a hunger for blood and pain. He fought it, and when he opened his eyes he returned to Blackfeather Woods, feeling weird and vicious; strong.

Looking at Kove, Cicero divulged: "Sheo knows—" Pause. "I know where—" Pause. "They are. Cicero saw Desna." Cicero did not remember the exact location, but he knew he could remember, somehow. He'd remembered this, after all. "Xan asked for them, so Cicero scouted." Cicero was not usually one for telling lies, but he felt that he had little choice in this matter. Sheo. Sheogorath was the secret that no one could ever know about.

Though no words came from the younger as Kove continued to speak, his presence alone continued to remain welcomed. Despite little having been said back in response to his spoken thoughts, it was good to at least know there was someone there to listen to him. Someone who could potentially provide insight or talk him out of doing something stupid, if doing so was ever necessary. It was better than simply thinking things over by himself, for some things could not be concluded properly if never voiced. One's mind could whirl and twirl and spin things all about until the subject was something else entirely, and the original issue never solved. That might bring forth the suggestion of merely talking to himself somewhere in the woods, but given where he was, he did not wish to risk being thought of as anything but right of mind.

With his feelings seeming to be unfolding and fixing themselves right before his very eyes, it seemed as if he would no longer need to take up Cicero's time—that is, until the patchwork boy said something that was of great interest. "You saw my daughter?" he repeated back, the topic serious enough for him to demand direct assurance. "How long ago did you see her?" After that he paused, silencing himself for a moment in order to regain his composure. "Where did you see her at?" That was the most important question of them all, the location at which the male had crossed paths with Desna. No matter how long ago it might have been, that location would still give him something to go by, something that would lead him in the right direction when he chose to seek out his daughters.

Luckily the fact that Cicero had seen Desna glossed over the fact that he had been fumbling over his words while he tried to assess... well, who he was. Kove asked how long ago it was that he had seen her, and Cicero answered by using different time marks since he did not particularly count days and the likes: "Not long before Meldresi passed." Hopefully that would provide enough insight for Kove as for a timeline. This Cicero remembered, for that was when the days had disappeared from memory.

As for a location, he shook his head. "Someplace North. I... Cicero does not know a name, but he can find the place again. He spoke with Desna, using a different name and pretending to wish to join her pack. They are in a pack there, your daughters, with Scarlett." Cicero could see that it mattered much to Kove, to see his daughters again; to get them back. While Cicero did not feel a particular warmth towards Kove other than him being of Blackfeather, he decided to help; reasons unknown to himself, even. Perhaps it was because Kove had shown his vulnerability. "If we — If Burke is asked, perhaps Sheo could pretend to join their pack to find their weak spots and take Kove's daughters." Once trusted within the pack, Cicero imagined he could easily coax the daughters out of the pack, or perhaps even convince them that they would be better off in Blackfeather Woods. He would be away from Damien, though... But perhaps it would be better that way — and perhaps the distance would make Damien see that life was too short to avoid true love.

A specific day was not given, yet the point in time the younger spoke of gave him some insight into how much time had passed. It was not an outrageously long period of time, but just long enough to have him wondering if Desna would still be lingering in the same area. He was certain the girl would go nowhere without her mother—it had seemed she'd always favoured the other parent—but there was no way for him to know if Scarlett had found a place to settle at. With winter having arrived, he wanted to believe she wouldn't be so foolish as to remain a loner with their children following her lead, but if she had joined a pack there was no guarantee she'd remained a member within it. After all, she'd left packs in the past, and as irrational as he knew it to be, he couldn't help but consider that she might have done so again. While he remained uncertain of how high the chances were of running into his charcoal child again, he gave a stiff nod of his head to assure the other he had a decent understanding of when they'd first met.

Cicero confirmed that his ex-wife had, in fact, joined a pack with his daughters. Still, he couldn't rely on that fact alone, for he was still wary of her skills in decision making. "North, huh? Perhaps... no, she wouldn't have returned there." Kove was speaking to himself, attempting to figure out where the woman might have gone. The only pack he knew to be present in the northern regions of Teekon was the one residing upon a glacier, but he couldn't believe she would have actually returned to that place. Little did he know that Duskfire no longer existed there—or anywhere, for that matter. As he attempted to work over a reasonable explanation behind her reentry into the north, his ears picked up on what was being said to him. The plan sounded good to him, but something stood out as being not quite right... "'Sheo'?" the Inuit questioned, glancing at the patchwork child. He knew little of the younger male, but suspected it might be better to not push the topic any further. "That sounds like a good idea to me," he said, moving back onto the main point of his focus. "The chances of Burke agreeing... how high do you think they are?"

To Kove's question in regards to his name, Cicero easily replied with: "Sheogorath is Cicero's middle name." He said it as though he had merely picked it as a quick cover-up name, as though that was all there was to it, his face neutral. Cicero did not intend to share with Kove that he had actually lost himself for a little while there while visiting the northern lands, and so he pretended like the reason he used the name Sheo was nothing more than a cover-up.

The chances that Burke would go for the plan were perhaps not very broad. Perhaps broader if Cicero would be the one to ask. "Cicero does not know what Burke thinks of Kove's children," he shared casually. "But perhaps Cicero could explain the plan and ask him." Maybe that would mellow Burke somewhat, if Kove thought that Burke might say no to Kove. Cicero was not quite sure what it was (perhaps his departure to a new pack that had failed, although Cicero blamed that more upon the lightness of Scarlett's soul than upon Kove), but Burke had a hard time being impressed by Kove, it seemed to him.

The reasoning behind the slip of names was given, and the Inuit accepted it. Any other time, there was a chance he would have looked further into it, but the manner of names and which ones someone used did not concern him. His focus lied on his daughters and the place Scarlett had taken them to. They would remain his focus, too, until he was able to see them again.

Kove nodded, listening to what the younger thought. Personally, the Inuit believed his son, at least, was not well liked by Burke. While he could understand why, he didn't really accept the reasoning. Xan was not one to be controlled, and he'd always been a bit troublesome—but, he was a kid, and that's what should have been expected from him. Where his daughters were concerned, however, he could not imagine how the greyscale man might feel. They'd done nothing to get on his bad side, aside from being related to Alexander, so the pallid male could think of no logical reason why his daughters would be denied entrance. Still, it was better to be safe instead of sorry, especially where his family was concerned. "I would appreciate it if you would explain and ask," the Inuit decided. Things between him and Burke were still not quite right, and he couldn't help but suspect that, if he were the one to ask, the plan would be turned down just to spite him.

Kove agreed to the plan that Cicero had made, and asked him to ask Burke. It made sense, as odds would likely be more in Cicero's favour than Kove's. Cicero nodded at Kove, making a silent promise that he intended to stick to, and then he slipped into the forest's embrace, disappearing to formulate a plan in silence.

It wasn't expected for the younger to deny his request, but the agreement still managed to make him feel at ease. There was a chance, he then knew, that he would be able to see his daughters again. He would not have to cause another scene with Scarlett, he'd be able to meet them in a state of neutrality. For once, he found that there was a possibility for everything to go as planned. Everything would turn out as he'd originally wished for it to be, and his family would be brought together once more—that is, if Burke would agree to the plan. The greyscale man was an unpredictable variable, which made the northerner wary. Such was refrained from reaching his face, however, for the ghost had decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Who knows, perhaps Burke would surprise him.

Kove hung around a little while after Cicero had taken his leave, allowing for the encounter to tumble through his mind. Hope was what he needed, and what he would stick to until it proved foolish to do so. With everything appearing to have been settled, the Inuit departed from the area and headed off to patrol the borders, his mood significantly better than it'd previously been.