Redsand Canyon The quiet hour

Located at the catacombs. For @Nyra.

 

It had been just over a week since the sweet hellhound had slipped past the boundaries of the Saints claim. Over a week since he had somehow agreed to stay here under Donovan's charge. With an original plan to die by them, he now lived by them. If anything, though he did not agree with their way of living (their agression, wrath, bloodthirst... ) they were maybe the only wolves left who wouldnt look down on him, fear him, hate him. They could understand him, maybe, if some. 

Though Hemlocke had been shyly, as always, silent and to himself. Unlike any other member of the ranks, the Thinman was unable to navigate through their home during the daylight hours. Especially here more so then anywhere. He missed his home in the thick forest of the Bracken. Missed the medical densite he had founded and grew. This place was hot, dry, and the sun reflected harder here then other places. Though quite frankly, it was very much like the place where he had been raised in the Borderlands of Torbine. Ironic, even, that he would find himself here. 

Once nightfall descended, Hemlocke eased himself quietly out from the pack's main densite known as the Warrior's Heart. Directly forth he moved until he reached the catacombs once more. The place which had been where he had met his fate and one of the most prominent decisions of his life. Where he, such a delicate and tenderhearted wolf, had joined one of the most feared and hated packs of Teekon Wilds. 

He sighs, his bloodied eyes turning up to the heavens- black, pitch, savor the small sprinkling of stars throughout. Please forgive me.... He whispers to the Gods, fully knowing they would never hear him out.

Nyra wasn't supposed to be out here. Dove would surely be at least a little mad when she found out Nyr left. She was still beaten and recovering from the Ursus attack. 
It had only been four days since then, and she wasn't fully healed yet - likely wouldn't be for a few weeks or a few months at least.  
Still, she had left Paradise Falls and ended up following at a distance behind Hemlocke. 

She came up behind him, watching him with curiosity "I had two sisters before I came here." the giant woman said softly, limping up next to his flank "We were the product of a ritualistic mating between the leaders of a cult. One that worshiped dark gods." 

The dark hound listened to the delicate footfalls of a wolf behind him. Though some of the land held softer dirt or sands, a good portion of the landscapes like these colored rocky halls, made sneaking upon others harder. He knew Nyra to be a warrior, yet not a spy, not a silent shadow, silently guarding, watching- like him. 

He sniffs, taking in her family scent, though he pushes through the dark corridors slowly. The moonlight shown down through the rocks only in small slivers in certain places, leaving it as dark as he. Of course, the wolves moved easily through it. He could only assume Nyra followed to keep an eye on him. 

But he had not seen her in a few days, not even in the communal den. When she begins speaking, he stops, turning around to face her and learn why be had not seen her around. She'd been hurt, badly hurt. Despite barely knowing her, his concern shown on his expression, his large pointed ears turning downward. He didnt like seeing anyone hurt. 

What she said caused his mouth to form like an 'O', a curiosity taking toll instantly. It shown as his ears perked up again, long legs carrying him closer to the great wraith. What did the ritual intel? He wanted to know what the breeding meant, what it would do for the cult in doing so. She had come to him, opening up on a similar past with dabbling with dark magics and demonic acts. Maybe if someone else understood how he felt here, he was meant to be here after all.

"To my knowledge, it was a sex rite, and our mother birthed us. We were known as blessings from the gods, my sisters and I. Collectively we had been called the Three Fates. We were meant to take over when our parents died. But...we had been out one day, gathering offerings or hunting or something, and when we returned, the entire cult had been pillaged, slaughtered. I left shortly after... I haven't seen my sisters since." Nyra answered, sighing with a shrug as she met Hemlocke's eyes briefly.

The Three Fates... he pondered this, still curious. Then she went on to explain the true fate, the one which ended her coven in slaughter. His frown continued. I'm sorry to hear that... He murmured, burgundy eyes shifting away for a moment and onto the rocky corridors around them. 

After a moment of silence for her fallen, his head lifted again, eyes to her. Do you know what they meant by 'the three fates', which fates you and your sisters represented? And then after a moment, another question. Do you... He didnt want to make it sound as though she were an evil kind, but maybe she was? Follow these Dark Gods?

She watched him, listened to the same question Dove had asked. Which Fates did she and her sisters represent?
"I don't remember if we were told which ones we were supposed to be." Nyra answered, yawning a little "As for if I follow the gods my coven did...no, not anymore. After the slaughter me and my sisters came to find, I left that same night. I wanted to leave that life behind, and in my head then, it meant leaving my sisters. I'm not sure where they are now." 

She didnt remember. And what was more, she seemed so nonchalant about it all, letting such a thing roll off her shoulders. Either she was certain she could control her own destiny or she didnt believe in the Gods anymore for it to matter, be it the Gods he believed or the dark Gods she knew of. 

Maybe if they have moved past that life too, you'll find one another again. And if they still followed the dark ones, only to come and reap havoc, Hemlocke wondered if Nyra would follow in her sister's footsteps or strike out against them. A hard decision, which made him think it was better off Nyra's path had not crossed them again. A thought he would keep to himself. 

Shifting awkwardly on his footing, he took a few steps, wondering if she would follow. Walking and talking, it might keep him from overthinking too much of what he was going to say. Maybe if she believed him she could offer advice and if anything, at least having someone understand  was nice. 

My mother was a priestess to begin with. A good woman. She couldnt have pups of her own and over time, became bitter and spiteful because of it. Although her mate had long ago left her and she had grown old, one day she suddenly became pregnant... He trails off, dark eyes shifting to the wraith. Surely she knew where this was going but he would continue if she didnt figure him a bore.

She shrugged at his response to what she said, following slowly, casually, as he spoke about his mother. 
"Your birth was a curse to her, yes?" Nyra side glanced him as she padded by his side

A curse of her own making, yes. He nodded, eyes fluttering over the large woman and then back down the pathway. But for me she would always say I was 'a blessing from the Gods'. Much like Nyra's own mother said about her and her sisters.

 During her pregnancy rumors spread. It was said she had to have made a pact with the Devil himself. A witch! They cried. After a quick trial, my mother was banished from the lands, newborn in tow. Past the mountains beyond, a refugee band took pity on is and let us stay with them. Blood Valley, the land it was called. Not too unlike the large labyrinth of red rocks here, for which the land was named of course. 

My mother and I kept to ourselves mostly, He was her mother's only love and only care in the world. Smothering in a manner that let off serious 'Psycho' movie vibes. When word got over to them of the witch, the band kept their distance, fearful of what she may do. I learned to take care of her, in her old age... Revealing his knowledge of herbs and such. Passed down to him by his mother's teachings. Finally, after wondering so long, mother told me something... She said, 'For years I prayed to the Gods for answers and they were silent. A heartbreak for a priestess, childless, husbandless, to have even her Gods look away. Then I called out to the Devil, and he spoke.' 

Hemlocke paused then, both in word and walk, looking back to Nyra for recognition.

Nyra was silent as the shadow spoke, taking in his words, occasionally glancing to him as she continued beside him. When he was sboth silent and still, she met his eyes briefly and responded "Sometimes we lose our way in darkness. Other times, we find home on the roads less traveled." She nodded to him once, an offer for him to continue speaking.

Hemlocke nodded, a silent agreement to her before adding, For me, travel in the darkness is all I have. Literally for him, as he was unable to wander around during the daylight hours without him getting a horrible throbbing in his skull. So much so he could get dizzy and then throw up. Not pleasant. 

Continuing on then he also continued his pace. She had died that night. The Devil had come to collect his soul... His brows knot up, his expression pained for his mother and what she had done and how now, how she would pay for it. I was old enough then to go off on my own, and so I did. He shrugs, pausing again as they came to a doorway in the corridors which opened up to the whole of the rocky territory. 

He pondered then, dark red eyes looking over the pale wraith who seemingly listened on without judgements. But he had to ask... Do you believe me? A single paw toying with the orange sand at his feet. That I could be the Devil's son?

Nyra stopped beside him as they looked over the rocky territory, glancing at him with a desire to comfort. Did she believe him? 
"You could be..." She mused after a long moment, "But even if you are, and even if you have to stick to the shadows, the dark...I don't think who you were born from defines who you are entirely. You can choose who and what you want to be." The pale wraith hoped her words would comfort him, give him some form of relief, especially after she shared her own past with him "Take me for example, if you want to. I came from a Cult, and if I had wanted to, I could have lived up to my parents' expectations of me and my sisters. I could have reformed the Cult to do just that. But I chose to leave it behind." 
Nyra wasn't sure if he had any restrictions to do the same, but she would be there for him regardless.

A good possibility, it seemed, from the view of Nyra, that he could be the product of a deal with the Devil. Hemlocke never knew his mother as the type to be insane or to be a liar so Hemlocke never considered that he could be anything less then what his mother had said him to be. Nyra however seemed to think that despite that, Hemlocke could very well choose what path he wanted to take in life. 

He nods delicately to her words, taking her path for the better to heart. He wanted to do the same. I definitely dont want to meet the Devil at the crossroads.. He spoke slowly, his long legs shifting, largely pointed black ears perking. I want to be good. I want to do good for others. And maybe, living amongst the blood hungry, the war torn, the heathens, he might somehow find that. If anything, maybe these type of wolves would find interest and use for him more then any other group would have. 

Then, admittedly as a single ear turns back, I just feel like no matter how many good deeds I do, I will always be cursed in the eyes of the Gods. The Devil was the lesser of his two worries, as odd as that were to think. It was the favor of his Gods he desired most though felt he could never obtain. That no matter what I do, because of what I am, I'm going to Hell. And the Hellhound, despite being molded by hell's finest, shuttered to the thought.

"Personally, I think to the likes of Gods it isn't entirely who you come from that makes you who you are. It's your actions, your intentions behind those actions as well." The pale wraith responded after Hemlocke finished. She wasn't the greatest of wolves, and frankly saw herself as less of a good individual and more of an intensely chaotic mess. 
Nyra slanted her ears back and sighed, easing herself into a sit.

We can close this up if you'd like?

He listens to her and finds a small smile touching his expression, likely lost upon his dark features. She was not the only one who thought ht had a chance, not the only one who believed he could make his own path. Whilst Hemlocke feared he was destined for evil doing he would do his utmost to stay true to his path to be a good wolf. Donovan believed in him, Nyra seemed so too...

Thank you. He whispers delicately to her and seeks to touch her gently with his black nose at her shoulder as a further gesture of thanks.

Sure thing! <3 

"Of course." Nyra smiled softly at his thanks, allowing the nudge to her shoulder from his nose. She in turn offers him a gentle, reassuring lick to the cheek. 
"You'll be alright." The shieldmaiden confirmed. She should probably return to her bed in Dove's domain, but she felt Hemlocke may still desire some company, and thus she decided she would stay in his company until he voiced differently - and eased herself to lie down, watching the night sky.