Blackfeather Woods continuity

@Kove, please!

Whispers of the leadership addition shifted through the forest and though Cicero cared for them little he did care for the name that came attached. Kove was a wolf that he had always held in high regard and had often spoke with, but not recently. Not since returning from Sheogorath. Considering time of year it must've been long since he had simply been Cicero. Now it was months since then and yet still he and Kove had not spoken much personally.

And so that day Cicero sought out the new listener, not to congratulate him with his new title but simply to catch up with an old friend.

Tagging for reference. ^^

The tunnels held his attention most days, especially when he wasn’t busying himself with patrols. Unconsciously, he often sought out @Maegi within them, curious to see how she was growing and learning. He’d recently emerged from one of the entrances, having not knowingly crossed paths with the girl, and was meandering through the woods when he spotted Cicero moving ahead of him. He’d lost track of how long had passed since he’d last had a conversation with the other male, and so he picked up his pace until he was walking alongside him, chuffing softly in the process.

“Hey,” he followed it with. “What are you up to?” He knew little about Cicero anymore, including what he’d been doing to keep himself busy since the start of the cold season.

Cicero was glad to find Kove that day; it felt like forever since they had met. Cicero had little idea of what was going on in Kove's life since Nemesis had left. Perhaps his life had calmed down since then, had stayed under the radar, but Cicero could not know for sure considering the gaps his memory missed. "Good day," Cicero said to Kove as their paths crossed.

"Hm..." The question was down to earth, perhaps, but Cicero did not interpret it that way. "Cicero is not so sure, these days." He looked at Kove with a grimace on his face. "War is brewing. Many acts were committed that will never be forgotten, nor forgiven." He sounded almost nostalgic as he said it, even though all of these things were things that he wished had never happened. But Cicero had always been practical with the past: it was in the past, and all one could do was move forward. So he tried not to dwell on the wrongs that he -- that the beast -- had committed, however hard. Yet they still impacted present and future, and therefore he mentioned them, for they might mean an untimely end at some point or other.

In the great span of time since their last conversation Kove had, unknowingly, missed the younger male’s presences. With each of Meldresi’s first litter, he had a connection, which varied from sibling to sibling. Damien was one of his greatest friends and, perhaps seemingly at times with the way they interacted, something similar to a son. Then there was Potema, who shared certain traits with her mother that the northern respected, letting it be known that he was there to assist whenever she might need it. But Cicero—Cicero was like neither of them. He’d always come off as wise beyond his years, making it easier for the Inuk to simply speak to him. Not about the pack or rituals or anything, really, but to have a simple, normal conversation. He appreciated him for that, even now, his presumed actions against his sister aside.

“Perhaps it’s for the best, that certain things not be forgotten or forgiven,” he commented. “Some things are worth neither.” Perhaps the comment was backhanded, though unintentionally. “What will you do when the war comes to take us?” he asked, curious. He’d never taken Cicero for much of a fighter, and he seemed even less likely to be one following the famine, but who could say for sure what he would do if his home came under attack.

Cicero nodded slowly as Kove spoke, although he did not think it a bad thing if they would be able to somehow wipe all that happened from the minds of those they had angered. Cicero would not weep for anything lost of his own mind should it ever be wipe; he'd not remember, anyway. He already missed a lot of patches of his memory, as was.

Yet he did not linger on it longer. Kove asked him what he would do when war came. Cicero did not even know what he was still doing here — though if he would dig further he would find that the pups meant something to him — what with Damien's scent vanished from the territories and war coming for them. He licked his lips and then said: "Cicero's best chance is to lead them to the weeping meadow to expose them to the poisons. It would work the best for the pack's sake, too." He did not sound like he cared whether he lived or died — but he knew that there were things here that needed to be protected, for the brotherhood, for the handful of wolves that he cared for in some degree. He did not ask any question back; Kove, he imagined, would just fight, for he was more blessed with his physique than Cicero, who was happy to survive each winter as was, without war.

When his plan for the upcoming battle was revealed, he wasn’t the least bit surprised. Of the trio, it was Damien who had always fought, not Cicero, after all; Potema was capable as well, to a certain extent, but neither compared to Meldresi’s eldest son. He gave a slow nod of his head but remained silent otherwise, considering his own steps. It was easy to assume that he would fight, as the woods was his home and he, as a guardian, was tasked with protecting it. Yet, he could not ignore the aches in his joints, just as he could not deny the potential hindrance that they posed on him in battle. It was a troubling predicament, getting old.

“Perhaps I will join you,” he mused. “My body isn’t what it used to be.” It was his first time mentioning it out loud and to another wolf; Kove didn’t want to be looked at as if he was a weak link, nor did he have any desire to be looked after. Because although he was aging he still possessed the pride of his youth—it was a curse that seemed to plague the Apaata line—and to be considered less than what he was just didn’t settle well within him. But he trusted Cicero with this revelation, more so than anyone else currently around.

It was strange to think of Kove as an old wolf, yet in a way, it made sense. Kove had always been there. Cicero remembered that he was there growing up, and he was still here now.. At some point, he was bound to get old, of course. Cicero smiled weakly as Kove revealed these thoughts and suggested he may join Cicero; should the occasion arise, of course.

He hummed a thoughtful hmm-mm while he considered it further, silently welcoming Kove to fight by his side. He knew that Kove knew Cicero appreciated the elder; he didn't need to confirm this with words.

"Do you think Blackfeather will defeat the intruders?" Cicero asked Kove after a silence, curious what Kove thought of the matter. It was nice, this, in a way; to speak with Kove about this. He trusted Kove's words above those of the others presently in the pack, for some hated him and would lie to him and some were simply not that bright. Kove, however, both did not hate Cicero, was truthful (historically proven, anyway) and had a good head on his shoulders. What did he think would be the future of Blackfeather Woods?

feel free to conclude this with your next post, Kuro, i'm trying to wrap up Cicero's threads so won't post again <3

It was not an easy question to answer. At times, Kove viewed the woods as this great force that could neither be matched nor defeated—but, as of late, he found said views slipping. Things were changing, but it wasn’t for the better. Yet, he remained loyal to the woods. Despite everything he remained loyal, for it was still his home, and it was where Meldresi’s spirit resided. He couldn’t abandon the woods and was likely to fight for them, even if his views did not align with Vaati’s, but everything felt off.

“I don’t know,” he answered, frowning. With a slow shake of his head, he dismissed the topic as a whole and motioned for his young friend to follow him; he was content with walking in silence, leaving the previous topic untouched even long after they parted ways.