Hideaway Strath Don't you know I'm no good for you?

for @Derg
any others, join at your own risk

She couldn't tell if she was annoyed or relieved to be released from Kynareth's presence for a while. Regardless, her attitude was shitty as always. She had no intention of playing the little submissive captive to anyone, not even the asshole—that's what she started calling Kynareth in her head because it was what he was. 

Today, the asshole had whatever to do—she hadn't really listened if he had taken the time to explain because she didn't care. He had taken her from the pit and then promptly put her under the watch of his second in command. She had never met him before but she hated him as much as she did any of the other Saints. 

No matter what he had planned, she would plop down next to a small stream to sulk. She rested her head on her paws and angrily stared out over the water as it trickled by, pointedly ignoring the scarred man.

When Kynareth had the bright idea of letting Simmik stretch her legs for a few hours, he didn't think he'd be put in charge of it.
He wanted to go out today, to take the pack to Kingslend.
But that will have to wait now.

He trailed after the moody woman. She wasn't trying to escape.
Well, not in a hurry yet anyway.
No, she slid down on the riverbank, looking out.
Derg saw down, narrowing his eyes at her.
For god's sake.

"Maybe you should try running." He grinned. It was a cruel jest, he admitted that. But anything was better than watching her just do nothing about the situation.
"That's what most captives try to do."
Even if they were injured.

His words did not get the rise out of her he may have wanted; she was too apathetic and too angry, and she wouldn't be taunted or manipulated. She slowly moved her gaze from the water to the stare at him with a bored look. The stare continued a few seconds before she finally spoke. Oh good, I'm glad I have you here to make sure I'm acting the way a captive should, she said, her tone deadpan, but the sarcasm was obvious to anyone who had half a brain. 

She lifted her head and looked him over, judging him. This will go a lot easier if you just shut the hell up and leave me alone, she told him. And then she rested her head on her paws once more to look out over the water, dismissing him.

The dark female had been gone far to long and had missed out on far to much, she had to be caught up on what was going on in the pack, not that she had paid it much mind even before she had left. She had learned to be honest with herself durning her journey across the Teekon and back honestly the thing that kept her her was here was Kynareth Deagon of the Abbey.  And she had shown little interest in anything else, well that was changing. She stared at the white wolf that the overseer seemed to be guarding.

 Oh how she hated white wolves, she knew that she was strong enough now to kill this one, she wasn’t the whelp she had been at the beginning, She comforted herself with that thought. She hated this wolf for the color of her pelt alone, even though she had recently had a fairly pleasant conversation with another white wolf, Arlette was it? She had no choice but to accept that one as It was pack and pack was hers, hers to protect. This one though was not pack and she had no desire to pretend or even fein politeness. And so she pointedly ignored the female as she drew up beside the Overseer, keeping her eyes on the female so he could relax his watch and answer her questions freely she spoke about this white one as if she was not even there.

Her tone was derisive “Who is this?” then her tone sofened conversationally, so that the overseer didn''t think her tone was directed at him “And if you can tell me how she ended up here, I’d be appreciative. I have been away a weeks and need to be caught up” her white blue eyes remained on the female not only did Whrist need to know but she was also hoping to force this one to re-live what brought her here with these questions. A win-win as far as Whrist was concerned. Her voice turned serious “It’s mating season… is she here to whelp” Whrist had to fight hard to suppress a wicked grin,  hoping maybe that is what this was about. Why waste the packs females on birthing pups. Plus she could hold a joke with the best of them.

Making a cameo!

The Acolyte heard through the vine the Saints possessed a captive. Bonesplinter Ravine was a place nobody wanted to end up. Zsuzsa knew even if she was long since dead, she would want her bones better off in an unmarked location other than the Ravine. The Ravine was just uninviting overall. All Zsuzsa ever known was when someone was deemed a captive, they were a pawn piece in war. Zsuzsa did not know of Kynareth’s past with this particular captive but could only assume the captive was here because the Saints were on the brink of war or had been at odds with another pack for some time.
 
Either way for this situation, the Mackenzie found herself wandering to the stream where the captive lay along with Derg guarding in tow, and another female Zsuzsa did not meet amongst the ranks of the Saints just yet. Observing the captive from afar and locking in all details from her scent to her physique if she so happened to be daring to flee one day. The scent of what was her former pack was faded and Zsuzsa made a mental note to store that scent in memory for the future.
 
Coming in on the tail end of Whrist asking Derg the reasoning of the captive’s presence, Zsuzsa was just as interested as Whrist in knowing. When the other dark female mentioned whelping, Zsuzsa’s gaze transfixed onto the captive’s figure. Zsuzsa would remain quiet in the background, just observing and listening.

Derg rolled his eyes. Yeah, ok Simmik.
He knew this was a bad situation for her but still, she didn't have to be so boring.
Make the best of what you've got they say.
He let her lay down, feeling the Saints gather around to watch the spectacle of a Captive being allowed some free time. Relatively.
"I'll let you do what you want then," he rolled his eyes as Whrist sidled up against him.

"Simmik. Kynareth dragged her in."
It was all any of them needed to know really. There wasn't much more to it to the rest fo the Saints. Of course, it's more to the Captive and Grandmaster. Derg was just babysitting.
But the mention of mating season.

Derg turned a sharp eye to Whrist, "Don't be so stupid."
It was one thing to have a captive, but to suggest that she'd make the next generation of Saints was absurd.

He looked back to Simmik.
Maybe he should invite her to a spar - or rather to batter the shit out of him if it made her feel better.

Well, at least he wasn't going to push the subject, She was happy with him sitting there and pretending she didn't exist while she stewed in her anger. 

But then a woman joined them. She spoke of Simmik like she wasn't there, which was fine—at least they were leaving her alone. She gave no response to anything she said; she just continued to lay down, pointedly staring at a spot away from them. But then the woman brought up breeding season and mentioned that Simmik might be here to whelp. A wave of nausea struck her, followed closely by a burning feeling of rage in her chest. She slowly turned her head, her lip raising as she stared at the woman. After what Donovan had done to her and the open wounds in her mind put there by a different monster, the thought of being forced to bear someone's children had her snapping up, ready to launch herself at the bitch. Her hackles raised, and as Derg finished his response, Simmik chimed in. Yes, don't be so stupid—you might get your face ripped off, she threatened. The words were steady despite the swell of emotion in her chest. She took a step forward, letting a low growl rumble from her chest while sparing only a brief glance to the other female that joined them. She would try and take them both if needed, injured or not.

Whrist kept her eyes on the captive named Simmik not taking them off her for a moment even as she was reprimanded by her Overseer. The words sliding off her like water from a duck’s back she hadn’t been sure of the plans for the captive but her ploy had worked she had gotten a reaction from it, where the Overseer had not and a haughty grin spread over her lips as the white wolfs hackles raised then the captive spoke and her good mood soured

Whrist’s snorted at the captive’s outburst,  and spat a foreign  word “ingigit” and rolled her eyes more at herself then at the captive; though the wolves around her might think it was directed at the captive. All these nasty damed white wolves where sending her back a puphood best left forgotten. Perhaps she should brush up on the skills she had learned because of them and practice somemore.  Whrist drew in a sharp breath these thoughts having flitted through her head instantly.
Quickly she corrected her mistake, snarling the words “Sit down” at the captive
She then continued harshly keeping her eyes locked on the Simmik “You have no say here, we can do with you what we wish. Especially the Overseer and Grandmaster, and if you are trash not worthy of even pup bearing then you are truly nothing!”  

The black wolf flicked an ear toward her Overseer, and she quirked the corner of her lips up in a smile showing him she had meant only to bug the captive with her remark “No Disrespect my Overseer, then why is she here? Pack politics? Fun?” She continued the conversation as if she hadn’t been interrupted and again as if the captive was nothing more then a piece of meat to be talked over but not to. In truth she hoped to bait the captive see how far she could push her.

Learning the captive’s name as Simmik, Derg made it seem like Simmik was so low in the hierarchy to not even get a story behind as to why Kynareth dragged her in. Fair enough. Her story didn’t need to be known. The other dark female was quickly reprimanded at the suggestion of whelping, and then Simmik herself chimed in to reiterate what Derg mentioned.
 
Zsuzsa’s ears flicked, raising her head higher up on her neck as her steel gaze was in a hardened stare at Simmik taking a step forward and issuing a growl. Zsuzsa simply stood in place, not raising a hackle. Simmik’s show in valor was commendable but three against one could easily put this injured captive in her place. Zsuzsa would react if Simmik decided to suddenly lash out at any of them, but her threat was seen as weak to Zsuzsa, so she did not give the satisfaction of reacting to Simmik's outburst.
 
Whrist continued taunting. Whrist’s last questions did prompt Zsuzsa to silently mull the purpose of Simmik and then chimed in (her gaze still stony upon the captive) ”I hope she will not be a burden on our food cache.” Zsuzsa remarked in a business-esque tone. She was more concerned over the Saints taking time out of their day to support this captive (like Derg was doing now) Winter was coming and there was much to prepare for and hungry jaws to feed. Zsuzsa did not want to waste time hunting and taking away the food supply for the Saints to provide to a lowly captive.

Sorry for holding this up

His jaw feathered, debating whether to snap at Simmik or Whrist this time.
Damn women and their emotions.
And damn Kynareth for his emotions.

The pale wolf bristled and the ​one hewn from darker materials snapped back.
He watched, glad Zsuzsa wasn't about to throw herself into the fray too.
But it was obvious to Derg that whatever Whrist held against this Simmik, it was probably because she was taking up all the Grandmasters time.
He sighed softly, looking to Simmik, "Please, sit." A slightly apologetic tilt of the lips and he turned back to the two dark-sisters. 

"She's Kynareths emotional baggage, not mine, so you better ask him for the story. And as for food, she eats from his mouth, not ours." A glance to the pale woman, "besides, making her provide young will be a heavier burden than one of you two bearing them."
Indeed, getting the captive to have, bear, and nurse children against her will would be suitably futile. If they were so worried about the future of the pack they should lift their tail for Kynareth.
A teasing glint to his eye. The Overseer certainly wasn't interested.

"Perhaps you should get to know Hemlocke." There, the suggestion planted. Having Kynareth as a father would be utter hell he'd imagine. Hemlocke...seemed so much more suitable.

The rude, entitled one started spewing words that didn't matter and attempted to command her to do something. She would not answer to anyone but Kynareth, and even then, she gave him a run for his money. These two annoyances didn't even know what they were walking into. 

She laughed, seeming a little crazy, and then lurched forward a few steps, snarling and snapping in the mouthy bitch's face. She would take no command from her. She missed what the other woman had said, but she was sure it held just as little importance.

It wasn't until Derg asked her to sit, that she decided to back off some. She smiled at both women, and then slowly took a seat. He seemed to know how things worked, at least. As much as she hated it, she knew what he said was true. Kynareth controlled her fate, and there wasn't much she could do about it. She could give his packmates a hard time, though, and she planned on doing just that.

Whrist smirked at the captive not flinching in the slightest as the female snapped in her face, White wolves snapping at her did not phase her in the slightest, in fact to her it almost felt laughable. She could do so much worse to that white witch, She could make her beg for life as her white whore of a sire did. She pictured those glassy eyes as the female sat down like a good little whelp when asked to by the Overseer, She snorted as turned her head toward Derg completely dismissing the female from her mind as she dismissed thoughts of her past.

Whrist schooled her expression as her heart clenched when she heard Derg refer to the captive as the grandmaster’s emotional baggage, that meant he had feelings for this one.  Keeping her expression neutral she nodded “Perhaps I shall go find this Hemlocke” She turned and trotted away without any further preamble and only a slight nod in Zsuzsa's direction. Whether or not she looked for him would remain to be seen she didn’t even have a description of him or his scent.

OOC: Exiting here.

Zsuzsa was thankful she had no part in having to overlook the captive. The whole situation sounded like a mess to deal with. There was nothing honorable about being a captive, even if one was granted by The Grandmaster. Simmik stepped forward to take a snap at Whrist's face, to which Zsuzsa could feel the prickle of her hackles begin to spike.

Whrist was like stone in the face of her snap. This caused Zsuzsa to remain still yet but could feel she was tensing if a fight decided to break out amongst the two, then Zsuzsa would no doubt lunge for Simmik to put her in her rightful place as captive. If Derg or Kynareth decided to punish her for doing so, so be it. 

Whrist decided to take Derg's advice and seek company of Hemlocke, although figured this could have been meant in sarcasm. Whrist nodded to Zsuzsa, to which Zsuzsa locked eyes with Whrist briefly, and then watched her leave the scene. There was really no point of Zsuzsa to linger either. Perhaps she felt pity for Derg having to be babysitter, but not really. "I'll be carrying on to more important matters." She said, disregarding Simmik as she turned around to follow the path Whrist took back into the throes of the Strath.

Derg gave the two shadows a tight smile.
They could be sisters. They would make for good spys. He should guide them as such.
One a stone, the other ice. All they needed now was a flame.
Three hellish sisters.

His smile grew, only slightly.

"I'm sure he'll appreciate your company," he mused to Whrist. As for Zsu, he gave her a nod, then turned to roll his eyes. Landing them on a still-bristling Simmik. He wouldn't punish her for standing up for herself. He wouldn't have stopped them putting her in her place.
But it was all a fanatic show.

"Are you ok?" He didn't want to send her back to her Grandmaster in a shittier mood. He suspected Kynareth asked him to look after her to try and cheer her up. Somehow.

I'm fine, she told him. It takes more than that to upset me. She had suffered far worse more than once in her life and had gained a thick skin because of it. There were still some things that could easily get under that thick skin—Kynareth being the main offender. But a few bitchy women was no skin off her nose. 

She stood and shook out her coat, clearly anxious and restless. She didn't like not having freedom, and she didn't like being here. She huffed and turned to Derg then. I want to spar, she told him. It was the only way she knew to take the edge off and calm her mood, even if it would only be temporary. She hoped he would oblige.

"Not today Simmik."
He wasn't going to give her the chance to run, or the satisfaction of taking a chunk out of him.
Another day when he knew Kynareth was a few feet away to make sure everything went...smoothly.

So they sat there, Simmik brooding and snarling and muttering, and Derg waiting for Kynareth with his patience at the end of his tether.