Bearclaw Valley a tale of jerusalem

suuuuuper vague based on ongoing threads - backdated to march 29 at dawn? ish?

she'd socked away whatever souvenirs from the body for safe-keeping in a nearby cache, then moved onto the valley. the fur along her spine lifts in increments as she gets closer. it has been a long time since she's been here, and as she approaches the borders, a full frisson ripples through her at the sight and smell.

Avicus howls, staring into Bearclaw's maw. she wonders who will greet her first.

she also clings to the faintest hope that everything has been a dream; that Astara will greet her here again, and envelop her into her dark embrace. 

it is quite faint; Astara is dead. Laurel is dead. and she knows that.

but a girl dreams.

Aventus flinched from the ringing in his ears, and not only from the howling. Since awakening from his fall in Stillrift, the ringing was near constant. The first few days were accompanied with splitting headaches and hallucinations both auditory and visual. Even now, occasionally he would see something in the corner of his eye or hear the voice of someone who was dead. The paranoia that accompanied it had him permanently on edge.

He was convinced his sister's voice was similar to the other illusions, but he went anyway. His body was fit, but the edges of the world frayed in his vision. It was a slow and dizzy procession to the borders, where he was shocked to see her.

Avicus, he said, doing his damnedest to keep a slight slur from his voice. That would fade with time. He hoped. Are... The ringing was louder. He gave his head a shake and regretted it when it felt like pebbles slamming around in his skull. The words slide from his tongue and mind like fish skin, and took him some time to grasp. That, too, would fade. He hoped. Are you real?

something's not right.

Aventus carries himself different—uncertain, with a weaving gait. alarm immediately raises her hackles at this, and at the question, Avicus straightens further, her indigo gaze wide and on full alert.

she nods, then says, hh'Laurel. you kill her. another dip of her head in congratulations, her face reverent.

they have done what she could not, and while jealousy still rages within her, she is undoubtedly pleased that her family had been the one to fell the wicked witch.

Avicus tilts her head slightly, brow knitting. Merrick? she asks briefly. her father had always been so quick to answer border calls.

There was a knock-knocking in his skull with every word his sister spoke, a buzzing in his ears that threatened to make him swoon. It took every ounce of his willpower to remain standing when all he wanted to do was collapse. The tips of Avicus' red guard hairs lifted, leaving Aventus wondering if she would take this opportunity at last to strike him down and reclaim what had always rightfully been hers. So she was real after all.

It took him a beat or two longer to comprehend her words. Damn this blasted rattling in his skull, which he shook vigorously. It was an answer to both questions. No, only Merrick had killed Laurel. No, Merrick was never coming home.

They killed each other, he answered bleakly, and all his followers turned traitor after that. He didn't take it as a personal affront against himself — he had merely seen what needed to be done, tested their resolve, and found it lacking. They had not abandoned Ursus because of his poor leadership, no, but because they had imagined in Merrick some humanity that was not there, because Merrick was obsessed with Indra, because Merrick wished to play his games and appease the bear with subjects rather than blood.

Look where that had got him.

they killed each other.

the earth falls from beneath her paws; her stomach subsequently plummets.

what. . .?

no.

that meant—

Merrikgh— she breathes. hh— gone?

it isn't possible. her father had been larger than life; some sort of immortal god-wolf. a shaman, a spirit, an evil being set loose upon this earth to do gods knew what. and Laurel mortal. 

yet they had found death at each other's jaws. . .

traitor. and the valley crumbles.

gone? Avicus asks again, feeling a yawning abyss beneath her. oh, it cannot be! both Merrick and Astara, gone— not possible— they still breathe, the earth still spins—

At another time, Aventus might have been tempted to seize his sister by the shoulders and give her a rough shake to snap her out of it. Grief was an old friend to him by now, and he knew it would take time for her to come to terms with it. She had always been closer to Astara, but Merrick held a place in her heart just as he did in Aventus. He drew in a slow breath through his nose, using it to steady himself, and nodded once.

We had the children, he said quietly. Laurel’s. But when I gave the order to kill them, to end her wretched line for good, they all showed their true colours. There are not many left who were truly loyal. Aventus and Arielle lost both Indra and Abel that day. There was no forgiving Val and Æsilfír their hand in that. He hoped he would see them again. He hoped he would be the one to tear their throats from their bodies.

Yet the opportunities for vengeance always seemed to pass Aventus by, as though the very cosmos was aligned against him, every single time.

I do not know where to go from here, he admitted quietly. He was never meant to be the leader. He meant only ever to stand second to his parents, always.

the tale of betrayal does, actually, snap her out of it. grief gives way to anger, and it burns in her throat—that they had turned their back on the prince of Ursus seems unthinkable. their father would have never allowed such a thing.

but she knows betrayal. she knows it quite well. Karst—she'd lost her tongue for him, nearly bled to death. and now where is he?

you believe in bear? Avicus asks, his admission quite startling to her. where she had been feral, he had been cerebral. and now. . .doubt? it's quite unlike Aventus. then again, all of this is. if you do. . .bear will bring more. beh'her wolvehh'.

she doesn't believe it. but she doesn't know what else to say. the abyss still looms at her paws.

No.

He had never admitted it out loud before, but he had always known. His reverence for Merrick was born from his fear. His reverence for the bear was much the same. Aventus knew he was living a lie — since the day he was old enough to understand — but it was something he kept deep down in himself. There was always someone who held him in a chokehold of fear for what admitting it would bring.

For years it had been Merrick.

Now it was his own wife.

Avicus, though... She had never been a bear believer. She was above all that. Once, Aventus had denounced her for surviving where Evien had not because she was not loyal to it, but that had also been the day his eyes were opened. Evien had been loyal. Evien had been true. The bear killed him anyway. The target should not have been Evien. It shouldn’t even have been Avicus.

It should have been him.

No good thing has ever come from the bear, he said, twisting his muzzle into a wrinkling grimace. Avicus knew. She must be doing better than any wolf in Ursus now, which begged the question of why she was here at all.

his answer surprises her.

she straightens, suddenly, peering at him with interest that shone past her grief, like light through broken panes. no? she asks, and then he explains. no, she agrees, and nods solemnly.

Avicus is glad that her brother has left the fanaticism behind. no good would ever come of it.

you will bring goodh, the russet woman affirms. you are. . .'hhhrong. bear ih' noh'hing.

she's not a touchy-feely wolf, and wouldn't be now—but she feels the strangest urge to embrace Aventus, if only to let their shared sorrow flow through them both. she stays still, though, indigo eyes fixed unwaveringly upon his dark form.

i have packgh, Avicus says, after a moment of silence. come. you are welcome, if you needh.

but what of the old human westerns she would never know?

this town ain't big enough for the two of us.

Like Avicus, he felt the temptation to reach out to a sister who had once been dear. He suppressed it. All that was left of his individuality was buried beneath the banner of Ursus, and if given the opportunity, he wouldn't even know how to access those pieces of himself.

He was not surprised to hear she had a pack, but he was surprised at the offer she extended. It showed in the gentle lift of his brows, the searching of his silvercoin eyes. It didn't feel like so long ago she had challenged him and denounced him in front of their entire pack. He had only ever wanted to stand beside her, second to his parents, but he had let his pride take the reins then. He had stayed. She had left. It made sense in his youth that he should be rewarded and she should not, but he had long since learned that nothing was so cut and dry.

Avicus would have served Ursus better than doubtful Aventus ever had.

I cannot abandon their legacy, he said at last, remorseful, feeling something pinch and close inside him. Ursus was broken and he wasn't sure he even cared anymore, but he owed it to Merrick to try to pick up the pieces. He didn't care about preserving it for Merrick's bear god, but it was what his father would have expected of him, and Aventus did not know how to make a decision that was at odds with the dutiful son.

He would find the strength, soon... But not today. Call on us if you ever need anything, he offered instead, knowing it likely that Avicus had no need of Ursus whatsoever, but seeking that small connection all the same.

oh, she understands. she nods firmly at his statement. how hard it had been, to leave the valley behind! a betrayal of everything she had ever known—of her birthright.

and it's his birthright, too, and she understands perfectly.

i will, Avicus promises. they stand silent for a moment or two before she speaks again. didh you bury Merrikgh? can i. . .?

for all her complicated feelings on her father, she undoubtedly had loved him. she wants to visit his grave before she departs, get closure. it will not feel real until she does so.

she swallows, meeting her brother's silver gaze in anticipation.

Can archive as-is if you like or after your next post!

Yes, said Aventus, already turning to lead her to the site. He had to take a slow breath before adding, In Tumbleview, near the den. It had been a long time since either of them had frequented that place, but he still felt the imprint of both his parents there. It was the most fitting place.

He took Avicus to it and sat silently aside while she said her goodbyes.