Dragoncrest Cliffs maybe spit some blood at the camera, just stay alive

@Dio @Vercingetorix @Blodreina @Mallaidh @Opalia @Dacio @Eastwood @Easy @Ephraim @Aure @Silkie @Natjuk @Isleñaa - and @Artaax if you want

despite the ominous thunk of that final syllable, that crushing d, reverberating in her skull with devastating finality, blixen doesn't believe @Bobby until she's at the cliffs and nomi's lingering scent is thick in her nose. she fancies she can see the path nomi took through scent, the slow parade to the cliff's edge, the final moment (did she hesitate? did she think of me? or were her thoughts entirely with her end?), and then the drop.

it is a long while before blixen can bring herself to look over the edge, but there is no closure waiting when she does. there is only the sea shoving urgently at the sharp rocks below.

(for weeks she will dream and for longer she will wonder, fleetingly, though never outloud: nomi survives the fall, nomi is washed away but alive, nomi comes back to her whole.)

as if the ocean is reaching up for her too, blix stumbles back, away from the treacherous cliffside that she's always loved. the cold that had settled over her when bobby first spoke has faded, but warmth does not replace it, and no tears prick at her eyes. there's --- there's too much to do, now for feelings. instead, the fineboned leader tips her head back and bays to her packmates, heda is dead. come to the cliffs.

the next step she'll take as it comes.

Ephraim felt like he was floating somewhere above his body as he guided his feet to the cliffs. Part of this was his continuing restlessness at night, but most of it was the weight of Blixen's call smashing into him. Heda is dead. It seemed impossible. Ephraim was sure it was some cruel trick, and that was mostly why he went, for he wouldn't have found it in him to move if not to prove that to himself.

Antumbra wasn't his family and had never sought to be. Ephraim knew now who his family was, and kept himself from thoughts of them lest his disappointment strangle him. Heda wasn't his family, but she had taken him in and mentored him and allowed him to live alongside her own children, even knowing now who he was. He felt the grief threaded through Blixen's howl as keenly as a child might mourn a beloved aunt or uncle. It couldn't be. It wasn't right.

His foggy thoughts ground to a halt as he approached the cliffs. His mind was elsewhere as he lifted an uncharacteristically misty set of eyes up to meet Blixen. Antumbra wasn't there.

He'd always thought Heda was invincible. Because of her, he'd always thought Drageda was invincible and felt protected by that. Now that she was gone, in spite of his beliefs, Ephraim felt like Drageda itself was left vulnerable. He felt unsafe, and all his anxiety about recent events came rushing back. His gaze pleaded with Blixen, then, to restore some semblance of Drageda's strength in him.

The call is sent up. Natjuk grows stock still. Antumbra is dead. Their leader is no more.

His journey to the cliffs is void of joy and habitual force. The sight of Ephraim summons words of Drageda's exploits. "Drageda has never been bested in battle." Natjuk attends with a downcast expression, lingering near Ephraim. His attention drifts slowly to the autumnal summoner and even further to the dropoff behind her.

The dots are connected.

His ears slick back.

How could she.

How could she?

To Blixen's call, he pauses, and stands tall. He doesn't believe it at first, or doesn't want to—but he can't even think of what else could be more important than answering this call. Heda is dead. What, how? What happened? There isn't time to.. Come to the cliffs. Some eerie worry is already on him.

His jaw's set tight in a silent grimace already and momentum carries him fast to the cliffs. The route came achingly familiar, and so did the grief roiling deep in his heart already—fresh and well-understood. He closed in over the last vestiges of Antumbra's fading trail, and slowed before his Fleimkepa with worry in his eyes, for her, and for all this.

Beyond where it all ended, he noticed nothing wrong.. no blood, no intruders, no struggle, and that concerned look at Blixen and the others served a truth remarkably well. With the sea stretching vast behind it all, then beyond, he bit back the sickening rage all over again.

Why?

Heda is dead. The missive, brimming with anguish, hushed whatever Aure had been tending to at the present. A particular repose fell over her, then, and she remained mute as she made to heed the rest of the red lady's call. If it weren't for the ponderous beats of her heart, she might have faded into something reclusive and hidden, away from it all. If it weren't for the vitality in her belly, she might have no arrived at all.

But she did. Still mute, she fell into step beside @Natjuk, her ally-in-arms, with a consoling brush of her ivory flank against his. In truth, it wasn't too obscure to figure out what had happened -- not when the kru regarded the cliffs behind Blixen so heartrendingly. Even more, she wished she could transform into something airy and embracing, and to fold everyone who still gathered into her spirit. 

There wasn't anything special about the day. The sun rose, and with it, Verx. He stretched and went about his duties--patrolling, marking, patrolling, marking, lunch. . . It was just another date on the calendar, another rotation of the Earth that'd be forgotten before long.

Until the call went up, and the Earth stopped spinning.

Vercingetorix stopped what he was doing entirely, staring straight ahead, ears rotating over and over, as if testing his own hearing. Was that--like, was that. . .? ?!?! ?! ? ! And the short-circuit began, slowly but surely. Every wire within him coming haphazardly apart.

He walked stiff-legged toward the summons, face set like stone, eyes blank, wide. He passed by wolves he knew but could not recognize in the moment, passed by them all, until he saw only Blixen in front of him. Blixen. Her own countenance serious as a heart attack.

No, the cheka said hollowly, the grief coming up like hot, sour vomit. It should have been me. It should have been me. It should have always been me. That was his job and he'd failed. He'd failed--where had he been? Fucking someone? Filling his fucking stomach? Being a fucking idiot somewhere, instead of doing his FUCKING job?!

Well he'd fucked up somehow, he knew, because Heda was dead and he hadn't taken the bullet.

heda is dead.

heda is dead.

heda is dead.

the words in the young fleimkepa's summons do not make sense to blodreina. the words strung together — impossible words — that should have never been put together in a single sentence are instantly rejected by the stubborn and headstrong gona.

no.

she refuses to believe them, thinking that is some sick joke that blixen is playing. because...because it had to be. it had to be a joke or a misunderstanding. heda couldn't be dead. she just...she couldn't be. the spirits of the commanders wouldn't let that happen. would they? surely not.

despite her will to reject the words as truth there is an undeniable urgency to blodreina's steps, heavy with rushed purpose. she is not the first to arrive on the scene and she moves to stand with the others, bulldozing her way forward with an icy pain in her heart and a hollow feeling to her lungs. what do you mean heda is dead? she demands even her gaze searching wildly for heda.

and then shifting through the scent of the others she picks out antumbra's, her savage gaze following it to the edge of the cliffs. blodreina knows the rest. the truth settles now, undeniable, and though blodreina hates showing weakness in front of anyone a pained sob tears itself from her chest against her will. and her heart shatters again, for a second time, since kendra's death. she loved antumbra. as a mentor, as the only wolf she'd looked to as family since her siblings abandoned her and her parents left to form sangeda.

even though she feels like she's tearing at the seams blodreina sobers up with a deep and uneven breath, keeping the torrent of emotions she desperately wants to let out at bay. this was no time to lose control. or to mourn. their commander was dead and there were no fos goufa's currently in drageda to take her place.

Opalia comes to the call alone.. with a careful quiet, uneasy already deep down. Heda is dead rang on in her head alongside the beat of her trot. She still had not compartmentalized all of her grief regarding a very similar statement except in shape of her dear mother, so to this feeling's return, she was cold and full of dread already.

When she arrived in the gathering's scene, it happened to be opposite her father, so she lingered near the fringe of the situation to listen for now. She wore her best frown and somber look--and although she hated it, she wanted to know why so she could have an enemy to face her anger towards this time too.

folks who havent joined yet - feel free to hop in still, there's no rounds on this, i just want to keep it moving! :)

her eyes remain on the trecherous ledge, thoughts moving too quickly for her to settle on any one thing. she could lie about what's happened, though it's impossible to get around the empirical evidence of what's happened. heda... was sick. and she fell. no -- making nomi look weak will not help any of them, and would dishonor her memory, at that. 

vercingetorix's voice breaks her reverie, her somber gaze snapping to him. "no," she counters, more harshly than she intends, shock making her voice like wind through an abandoned tunnel. empty and sharp. "she--"

eske--blodreina--appears and blix feels her own temper flare, teeth snapping back together with a breathy click. "it was heda's decision," she says, bobby's words echoing in her skull -- heda, not nomi. blodreina, she thinks, will understand that, but the others? she doesn't want to repeat what bobby told her because she hates it, but she cannot let them think this was a moment of weakness (despite her own feelings, which she does not have access to at the moment).

drawing a breath, the young fleimkepa composes herself. "she spoke with -- robin -- before the time came. i can't -- ultimately, this was heda's will. something she had to do. and we as her kru must -- honor her will." she licks her lips, slipping into trig as she continues, glancing between dio, blodreina, and verx. "we'll need to send word to the other branches -- if ajatar is still the only fos goufa..." blixen pauses. "i'll send helix. we need to stay here and make sure -- and keep everything together." she's surprised to find that she has, unthinkingly, accepted the position she finds herself in -- if there is no heda here, it is blixen's job to steer their ship, with dio's aid. with verx as her cheka. with blodreina's continuined guidance, hopefully. and artaax's -- well, artaax, though right now, she doesn't know if she'd ask anything of him. nomi is -- was heda, but heda is more than nomi. drageda will have to survive.

[/i]

Heda is dead.

Like everyone else, Mallaidh doesn’t believe it but she knows Blixen wouldn’t joke about it. Not after everything. But that can’t be what she heard, right? A million questions run through her head that she knows she can’t answer so she makes her way to the northern cliffs where a cluster of wolves have already gathered. She tenses and watches from afar before she slowly picks her way across the field and into the group.

She hears most of what Blixen has to say and her eyes rove over the other wolves, surprised there are not more to accompany the leader’s side.

Mallaidh’s jaw tightens a she tries to find Blixen’s gaze and lift her chin slightly, encouraging her to do the thing she needs to do. Later, she’ll be with her but for now she stays in the crowd.

Robin follows along with Blixen to the spot but he doesn’t have to lead her. She can find it well enough. Her scent still lingers. He’s afraid if he gets too close, he’ll see her floating in the angry sea. The clouds in the distance are still there, ever closer. He can’t get the last image out of his head as she nods to him, knowing what she is doing. He’d learned a lot in Trigeda and he knew his family came second when it came to Heda and she had to do what she had to do, in spite of them.
 
The timing was just terrible.
 
Blodreina isn’t the first to speak up but her anger is hot on the air and he watches her, then Blixen as she explains. The tension between the two women doesn’t go by him and he steps closer to his sister and watches the former Wanlida.
 
A beat later, he turns to Helix (who showed up at some point and shows the same amount of apprehension as everyone else) who takes the command in silence. He thinks to offer his service, knowing well enough the way back to Trigeda but they need him here, even if they don’t want him.

Throughout the arrival of others, Ephraim stayed still and silent. Most who came seemed, like him, to be in a state of shock. Vercingetorix voiced his grief and the young coywolf's heart went out to the Cheka. Some things couldn't be defended by force. As the rest of the pack filed in and Blixen began preparing herself to address them, Ephraim steeled himself.

The only thing he wanted Blixen to say was that this was some big misunderstanding, but it wasn't. He knew Blixen was Antumbra's kid, although he didn't know the details of it. She wouldn't lie about her mother dying. Still, even as she said the words, he fervently wished it wasn't true. What disarray did it leave the wolves of Drageda in, with enemies on their doorstep and their incorrigible leader gone?

He wanted to believe Blixen could lead them as well as Antumbra, but he'd put the commander on such a high pedestal since accompanying her to Trigeda, it was hard to imagine anyone adequately taking her place.

Others arrived, bringing their apprehension, tension, frustration, and all else. It didn't change the outcome here, however, and he has to invest in processing this effectively--and quickly, or nothing else will do. There is a lot at stake here, and a lot bound to change.. he cannot help but glance from Blixen, to Robin, and the unseen Artaax who he worries first for.. then Blodreina and Vercingetorix, who had done their own to drawn that attention. Himself, too, he doesn't make time to consider as everything simply goes ice cold.

He feels that awful tremor of sorrow, and has to steel himself next before he has to wonder if like Portia, she will wash back cold to their shores. He refuses to look its way, but the sea--he wonders why it keeps claiming theirs, what they have done to deserve it, or if there even is any merit besides fate alone. Too, he wonders, what those last seconds had been like. If Heda's had been in acceptance, then who was he to argue?

His ears had fallen flat, but he was stock still near Blixen until her words brought him to a small nod. Helix was best equipped for the trip, even if it was one he hated that they had to make anyone embark on. He, on the other hand, had no complaints in staying here. Keeping things together may be a different matter, but so be it.

”It should’ve been me.” She looked up from her consoling of Natjuk at those words, and the pure anguish that dredged up from Verx’s plight. This wasn’t her place to speak. Not when tensions were so high, and would remain so for some time. But it didn’t stop her heart from stuttering, just as hiccuppy as her expression couldn’t be. No. No, my love. Your life has as much meaning here as Antumbra’s—as everyone here. We need as much of ourselves if we are meant to heal. Her quiet, inscrutable gaze went to Mallaidh, Dio, and an obsidian male she was unfamiliar with; all sorrowful, withdrawn, as she.

None of their deaths would have saved heda—or bring her back. Such beliefs would remain for the better part of the rest of their lives; it was how you grew after mourning which mattered. How you forgave yourself, even if you doubted you ever could. Aure’s views were faded, but frienzied all the same; she didn’t even know what sense they made, if anyhing at all. She didn’t even know who would want to be helped in this aftermath, or how she would shoulder it; be present for it.

But she would be damned if she found that anyone, mate or no, brana or no, would condemn themselves for something so out of reason or control—which had been possessed by Antumbra’s choice alone. But maybe it made sense to all of these wrought-up minds, when logic seemed myth. So she remained hidden, her words returning to her pensive person, and fell back into silence.

6am no sleep writing sry if this is wonky y’all

His knees were buckling; there was a sour taste in his mouth he recognized, faintly, as bile. He sat with a hard thunk on the frozen ground, hearing Blixen speak but not really registering the words. All he could see was the cliff, and the void beyond. The waves and all that lie underneath----

He could have--would have--protected Heda from anything. He would have lain down his life for her without question. But he could not protect her from herself.

I'm so sorry, Vercingetorix whispered, when the group had fallen silent again, speaking to no one but his commander. I'm so sorry, Antumbra. And felt his jaw stiffen, then, and the tears pool up in the corners of his eyes. But they did not fall.

Not here. Not yet.

Heda is dead.

Dacio paused at the solemn tone of Blixen's voice, turned to point his muzzle in the direction from which it had come, and pricked his dark ears forward to listen. Breath held, he focused entirely on the young Fleimkepa's call.

Come to the cliffs.

At this, he could've swore he felt his blood ran cold. He visibly shuddered against the sudden chill that sent his guard hairs on edge, wondering if Drageda's leader had met a fate there similar to that of his own mother. The ashen youth did not step forward at once, instead appearing rooted to the spot as he tried to convince himself to go, that the pack needed to support one another now more than ever, and at last sucked in a deep breath.

Dacio lingered in the background, feeling his mouth dry and his heart thrum wildly as grey-green eyes drifting over his comrades. While the weight of their most recent and devastating loss hung heavy over the group, the sterling youth took some comfort in the knowledge that they all shared something in common: loyalty to Heda, even in death. Together, they would mourn her.

He didnt have anything to say, and stepped alongside Opalia to brush his flank carefully against her own - I'm here - to listen.