Sunbeam Lair Never Be Broken

Again Reyson found himself ranging far from the pack lands in the twilight hours. Paws heavy as his thoughts that ran rampant. Though he was happy for the chance to prove himself. The new rank was amazing. He was back to where he had been, once upon a time. It no longer felt as if all his training, his past was nothing.

However, the palace still loomed far and wide and deep in the recesses of his scarred mind. And he found he was nervous, and a bit irritated at having to go to the palace. Not that he hadn't known this would be what was expected. No.

What was bothering him was he had been there for the wedding and he found it wanting and sad. And he wasn't a fan. Blue eyes looked to the stars and in a rare crack in his façade a tear slid down his face. He longed for someone anyone to talk too. But he quickly covered it up and shivered. Forcing the feelings down, down deeply.

hi my name is rachel and I hog Danni threads

It was night but she could not sleep. The ashen dove was hard pressed to understand why, given she practically fell over from exhaustion when it finally came time to catch some sleep, and yet it eluded her. 

Her mind would refuse to turn off and while she usually would seek solace in restless sleep, this evening she had stalked past the borders, this time not seeking anything but the company of the stars.

She didn’t expect to catch view of the large wolf in the distance—a golden figure of pure muscle and scars.

She paused, studying him quietly. Reyson was a wolf she found herself in company with more often than not and she found comfort in his presence. But what was it that brought him from his home in the dead of night? And what answers did he seemingly seek from the stars?

hi my name is Danni and I hog rachel threads in return <3 Grabby hands

Often in the darkest recesses of the night was when Reyson was pulled from his contentment. When the stars danced and played above him, what played in his mind, was loud voices. Blood and dirt and tears. Whispered voices. The sound of the dying and the damned. That was what his nights were on occasion. It had lessened in the recent months, but they were returning and he knew it was from the changes in his world.

Soft footfalls upon the loamy ground. Tattered ears twitched backwards and he turned swiftly. Body poised for a ready battle. Though when eyes fell upon ice and honey, he froze and met the amber eyes he had grown used too over teh course of so many days.

He scrubbed a paw over his eye and then looked to her again. Hello Lady Meadow.

Voice breaking the silence. He looked back to the stars. My father loved the stars. I can tell you hundreds of stories and yet i begin to forget them. But in the recesses of the night I can hear him. I was 4 months old when they were killed.

He greeted her—she moved closer and she would have swore she saw grief and the hint of a tear in his hardened gaze. No doubt it was simply the shadows that danced from the light of the moon, and as she sidled up beside him and sat slowly to her haunches, his voice rolled over like a blanket, the story heartbreaking all in itself. 

Something was different about him. The tension that coiled from him—unreleased, a brewing storm. Tentatively, she allowed a shoulder to brush against him in solace. Your parents? She clarified, eyes still riveted upon the stars, wondering what tales they had once told him.

She came nearer him and though it felt vulnerable. Made him unsure. He warred for a moment. And then slowly sat down, tail curled around his paws. He met her gaze. He nudged her silky ear for a moment, the only place he could reach given their size difference.

Lick along broken canine as he thought of the words to say. And a part of him fought and railed against it.

Yes their names were Inias and Sanvi. He was an astronomer and a counselor and she was a healer. If memory serves. My former pack came across me, decided they wanted me for their ranks. When my parents refused. They fought and killed them, and then i became exactly what the pack wanted and my parents had feared.

Reyson looked around him again. And I fear I am becoming such again.

The nudge given to her ear a quiet greeting of sorts—acceptance to the gentle touch of her shoulder to his side as their friendship bloomed into a camaraderie she would offer a fellow pack mate. Or so she told herself. 

She swallowed dryly to his story. Stolen from a young age—trained for battle. Hardened, perhaps? His parents had been killed. 

But she was missing something, and the turmoil within him was almost tangible as he fought with himself, stirring a light frown to her slender features. Becoming what?

I honestly don't know where he's going, but i'm loving his growth <3

Reyson knew there was more to their friendship than camaraderie, but he refused to acknowledge it. He didn't know how, and he could very well be fooling himself. And he wasn't even sure exactly what it was, a deeper friendship or what. So until he had an answer set in stone, he would continue on as he was.

Reyson was indeed a hardened thing, though the petite svelte wolf beside him was fast breaking those barriers down. And he didn't mind.

Reyson frowned. I was recently moved to Legatus, one of the highest ranking soldiers in our cohort II hierarchy. I took Maxim's spot. As he and Towhee are retiring to hopefully your Epoch.

Reyson shifted a well-muscled shoulder. But in order to keep it. I need to make a tour of Akashingo. It is a pack that we are allies of. They use our soldiers for their guards and borders, and we trade with them. And I hate it there. There are no open spaces, and the politics make me dizzy. But I am going to do it, because it was asked of me, ordered even. I can't help but wonder.

His voice peppered off, because he wasn't even sure what he was wondering. Was it worth it? Should he do it? Was there more to his life than just being a soldier. A body to fill the ranks? No one had cared for the scarred warrior for more than that, not since Renaud and Amity and Rook, and they were gone. All of them were gone.::

She listened. Every fibre of her being listened to him—the most she had ever heard him talk, surely!

She assumed that was what Maxim had been to their borders about, then, when she had excused herself from Tamar to watch the kids. It offered her potential respite—being the only adult available in the pack previously that didn’t have young pups to tend to. The packs growth was not only a boon but absolutely required. 

It seemed to come at the high price of Reyson’s self awareness, though, and she hated that. 

You’ve been a solider all of these years. You’re not becoming one, you are. Her warm eyes searched him then, willing him to look at her. A month is… a month isn’t long. Not if Legatus is something you desire. But is it so terrible if it isn’t something you want and decide not to pursue ?

Reyson finally looked down at her. Ice Blue eyes taken from the stars to search in her amber gaze for the answers he sought in the stars. Answers to questions he didn't even know he was asking, because he didn't know what was so unsettling to him. There was so much more to it. And yet he didn't know what more it could possibly be.

I know I am a soldier, but I am tired. Do you know how many deaths I've seen. how many bodies i've buried. The scars upon my body are not just from lynx's and porcupines.

A small stir of his maw with a side lift of a smile.

I am a body in a rank. I do my duty and I do it well, but that is all I am. All my children are gone. Killed in battles that have no names. Not that I was much of a father, as it were. I was even in that respect a body because of my prowess on the battle field. I came here and I was thinking for myself, and making friends, perhaps. And now it is all torn asunder. There is upheaval. My only friend is leaving. And I am being forced to a pack I hate. Where if I say teh wrong thing it could cost someone or myself their life or the allyship of the pack, and I am terrible with words. I do not want to be a nameless body, in a unmarked grave.

He sighed. But that is not even the problem. I do not know what the problem is. I do not know why I am unsettled and anxious. I want the rank I have been given, and I do not mind going there not really, and yet I do. It makes absolutely no sense.

Paws dug deep into the dirt, black nails breaking up the ground as his body went tight. Because that was the problem. he had no idea what was wrong with him.

I am trying to elude to PTSD in Reyson. As it would make sense given his back story and all the changes. If it seems wrong or it bothers you please let me know <3

I think PTSD only makes sense for him, tbh. <3 No worries on my end!

She could practically feel the energy emanating from him—a vibration that was nearly deafening given the solid and stalwart soul it came from. His emotions were snowballing—pent up for too long, perhaps, and she was vaguely reminded of her recent time with the Imperator and his own masked emotions.

Soldiers. Always insisting they be strength and brawn, and somehow linking emotion to being weak. Perhaps they distanced themselves from it for they feared their loved ones would be in danger.

Or, perhaps they distanced themselves because they knew their lives were nearly forfeit in their paths, and the loss one day would hurt those they cared for.

Reyson had seen enough in his lifetime—he needn’t say it to the silver waif for her to know by the intricate scars and marks along his body.

She nearly balked at the idea of him going to a dangerous pack—why would his leader send him to a pack that could very well kill him? The idea of him being a fallen body, nameless, unmarked in the world, all but took her breath away and unknowingly, she inched closer to him, as if the tiny girl could protect him in a world they both knew could be entirely brutal.

She didn’t have the answers—there were no words she had that could help—at least not yet. She raised herself, lithe form sidling up before him, honeyed eyes seeking him out as she aimed to draw his attention. “When was the last time you ran just for the fun of it? The wind on your face kind of run… Not hunting, not being chased… just…. Running.”

Had Reyson known of the imperator that she spoke to him. Could possibly spill his own sadness when the imperator frowned on such things. Reyson would have balked and clammed. But as it were he didn't know.

Reyson had, was not used to these new found emotions. He had never felt them before. Perhaps in the quiet hours before dawn before he went into what could possibly be his death. He had felt a twinge. But before he had always been on the move from mission to mission. Here in a way he had become stalled, complacent. And had time to think.

Were she to ask. Reyson would told her the latter. He guarded his emotions well for fear that those who cared would break under a hailstorm of shit.

Akashingo was dangerous in some respect more so than any battle he had fought. For then he saw it coming. But drop him in a pot of vipers with honey upon their lips and he was lost.

He stared at her surprised. A small strangled chuckle escaped him.

I've never.

“Let’s run,” she coaxed, paws dancing closer to him as she tipped her nose upward, reaching to nudge quickly beneath his chin before inching away, luring him. “Don’t think for a moment. Just feel… Don’t wait for me—I’ll find you.”

Meadow was a nimble little creature—one had to be at such a size and to survive the way she had—but she wasn’t confident that Reyson’s larger strides still wouldn’t outdo her own, and she didn’t want him to hold back.

And with one last look over her shoulder, the she-wolf darted forward, limbs stretching, muscles quaking with the excitement of use as she tore across the slope, away from the Legatus and into the dark night, knowing he would not be far behind her.

A whisper of a touch, leaving ghost paws in it's wake. He didn't quite follow her. He didn't know what she wanted. This was no an exercise he was used too. There was no training protocol or meaning at least that he saw as of yet. Not that it wouldn't be something he would do. It was just different.

She was tiny. His strides could possibly catch her, but he held doubt that he could beat her. Where her size would give her movement and probably more stamina. His would lag him behind. He thought about it, this was just another way to push his body, right? He had seen other's do it, Rook had been an avid runner. He just had never tried.

Then she was gone, leaving his head clamoring and his nose twitching. He hadn't even stood before she was gone. Then suddenly he got up. She had told him not to think, just feel. So He tried just for her.

His breath at first came in sharp gasps, but as he willed his body into motion. Reminding himself that he was built for all physical things. His breathing grew regularly and he followed her at an easy pace. Wind whipping along his ice blue eyes, pulling the wetness from them. He had to blink a few times. He tucked his nose and almost caught her and then remembered her words he was to not wait.

So he gave one deep hearty of a whuff as he ran, because he had lost sight of her. And he just ran. It was near a large tree that he finally made his stop, and with sides heaving, head down low. He for a moment let his tears fall. What he was crying for he didn't know. Perhaps it was all the time he hadn't cried. But he wiped them away as they came. And he looked to the stars again, searching for so many of the things his father had taught him. Of what he could remember. His father's soft hum in his ears, while he looked up at him with adoring blue eyes, and his father met him with his own blues. Which morphed to Amity's blue eyes that she got from her father, and the warm browns of Rooks, and then Renaud's beautiful sweet renaud.

Cool night air swept the fur of her face back—the stars guided her as her paws thrummed against the earth. Reyson could be heard—and then he could not and she threw her head back, inhaling sharply and relishing the freedom spanned before her.

Time held little meaning—it remained dark, though, and so when the Epoch healer found him, he was by a tall tree. A paw swipe toward his eyes—tears, she noted, her lips thinning as she prowled forward.

Something had him out of sorts—had the physical exertion helped? She didn’t know, but silently she came to him, and pressing herself against him, she held him—a hug. Tightly, wrapping about him, as if the pressure of it could further settle his rapid heartbeat, and if he allowed her, she would maneuver him to the soft ground, resting so that she rested her head upon his back, the rest of her curled closely to him—protectively.

“You will never be nameless,” she offered, her voice hushed under the starry sky.

Reyson waited maybe seconds, maybe minutes. He wasn't sure. All he knew was that he trusted her to meet him there as she offered, and that was enough to start him on another spiral. Trusting someone he just met a few weeks ago now. Though, weeks was more than days.

The physical had helped, reminded him as it always had that he was still alive. Surprise colored his face for a mere moment, before she was pressed against him and he went willingly as she led. Fearful that he would hurt the petite healer. So he hit the ground with a gentle whuff. Holding himself tightly and rigidly until she was settled then he'd ease into some position more comfortable for the both.

He sighed softly. Thank you.

He lay a head along her paw and stared upwards, breathing evenly. When I was in the trenches. I would always look up to remind me that there was still beauty and good things.

He eased—her own form relaxing as he did, hoping that the sentiment of a hug and touch would soothe him—ground him. She shifted, her cheek pressing to his shoulder as she cast him a sideways look, then noted he spoke of the stars.

“Tell me a story of your stars?” Distract—redirect. What else could she do? Perhaps, bit by bit, they could determine the root of his ailment—what had frayed his heart so much to keep him awake and pacing this night.

A soft rumble if a hmm began in his chest. And his thoughts raced. Tumbling turning. There are many. Just as there are many tods and goddesses. I speak of the greek god zeus.

He frowned in thought trying to remember. He lifted a paw and traced a great eagle in the sky.

That is the eagle of Zeus. It is storied that he was once a great ruler. He was virtuous and brave. When he died the god Zeus, put him in the sky to honor him and his deeds.

Zeus—a name she might have heard in passing, but religion and gods had never been something Meadow had taken to true heart. Stories, myths… all were intriguing to her, but as a she-wolf who had rounded packs with many differing cultures, it was easy in the end to note they mostly revolved around a belief of a higher divine entity.

“Maybe that’s what happens to us when our time comes,” she whispered, studying where he pointed to the sky. “Maybe we get painted into the stars so we can look down to our loved ones and watch over them.”

And she wondered idly how many she had known over the years and had loved were among those stars—her father, yes. Those that had perished in the Maplewood flames. But everyone else? For all she knew, they wandered the world as aimlessly as she did.

A lazy smile smoothed across her features then, a brow arching. “Maybe if you ever retire from being a solider, you could become a chronicler.” It was a lilting tease—but there was some hint of truth in there.

“Tell me more of this Akashingo?” Trying to determine the root cause of his whirlwind emotions—it seemed something about this place had him triggered. Fearful, even.

Reyson was not a follower of the divines. As he had told Senmut. Certainly he tossed a prayer for his soldiers when he was ready for bsttle, but none to any particular god or goddess.

Reyson smiled. I like that idea. Holding council with souls of kings and queens.

Renaud, Amity, Rook they would be there. And so many others. Every name had put in a grave. Too many to whisper.

He frowned. It's a palace. They eat sweet honey and berries fermented, it fogs your brain. They have loud parties and sacrifice animals for religion. They have servants who are unable to do anything but serve. I was only there during revelry so perhaps i am mistaken. But it feels me with great unease to be around such debauchery and opalence. And there are walls all around. They have other servants for pleasure services and that makea me ill.

He spoke of it—a place of whimsy, it almost seemed, and she felt her eyes widening by the end. And then—not to laugh at his unease, surely!—but a small laugh escaped her, coursing through her and probably lightly shaking against him before she buried her face to his back, trying to control the snicker.

“Sorry,” she finally surfaced, clearing her throat. “I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at me.” She tilted her muzzle to better study his face, hoping her outburst hadn’t offended him when he finally began to open up to her. “I just… Naive Meadow, was essentially my nickname over the years. Lítið dádýr—little deer, more aptly. I was just here thinking I’ve seen most things, but I’ve never…. Heard of or seen quite a place like that.” Solpallur’s little bambi, it seemed… The thought was sobering.

She paused, feeling the corners of her mouth downturn once more at the thought of him within the confinement of those walls for a month on end—her mind refusing to consider the debauchery he would be subject to. Did the lonely life of a solider lead to the warm arms of a willing servant?

“And Akashingo is important to Mereo?”

Tufts of air upon the scars on his shoulders. It was tickling and strange, the feeling a little harsher than where fur was.

A smile surfaced. Little deer suits you. It is cute.

He nodded. yes, but I'm truly not sure how. I know we trade things for service. Herbs, medicinal plants. Some of that honey shit.

Reyson was not one to have dalliances. He was usually all in. There were the few times he had sired children because he was asked and he knew the soldiers who wanted to be mothers but they didnt wish the ties. He also entered those but only once maybe twice. And he didn't wish to do so anymore.

The servants are usually born to it. It is all they know. It sits unwell with me.

Reyson here basically being insubordinate by talking of Akashingo. Didn't your scars teach you anything. Sir.

Sorry not sorry. Meadow seems to have a hidden talent by coaxing things from others.

Honey… and she was reminded of Zosime, and how bees had ouches on their butts.
Had Reyson ever had the joys of getting to know a child? Tamar’s three had grown unexpectedly important to her. Keyni’s own as well—particularly her little charge who grew weaker by the day.

She could see how there would be an appeal to dull ones senses. It seemed such a dangerous slope to tread, and for that, Meadow had never dared dabble in even treating others with medicine that would encourage such behavior.

“And these servants… They like... it?” She felt her cheeks flush—did they know better? She had never been privy to the act itself, but had heard it felt good, if done proper. Were they pleasure seekers?

Reyson had never really know children before 4 to 6 months. And then they had immediately began to train for soldiers.

Reyson didn't like dulled senses. It bothered him. It was why he hated medicines that did so. Why he often dealt with the pain.

Reyson froze at her next question and turned blue eyes to her.

I imagine some would. It can be pleasurable certainly. But i don't know personally with the servants. That is not a act i seek to pursue leisurely unless i like the wolf in question.

He frowned in thought. I imagine it would be like most anything if you're trained enough. You grow to like it and are accustomed to it. And there maybe ways out of it. A set period or something. I haven't sought such answers.

She felt him stiffen beneath her at the very mention of it, and she chuffed softly into his fur, wondering why the topic always seemed such a taboo thing to many. It seemed he held some knowledge on the topic—and only partook in such a deed when it was with someone he liked.

Casual, perhaps…

“Does one grow to like something they are accustom to? Or do they just not know any better?”

Either way, the morals of the pack in question seemed murky at best, and Meadow gave an idle shake of her muzzle, sighing softly. Then, instead: “Are you aware of a new pack just at the edges of the mountain toward the Flatlands?” She paused, though didn’t wait for his answer. “Basilica. Perhaps the Imperator would be willing to divide the time of your tour to get more information from them?”

He didn't find the topic taboo. Easily spoke of it with wolves like Towhee and Maxim. He recalled with a small smile earlier his jest that it would be a shame to blow her back out.

But with Little healer Meadow it felt strange like she deserved more than callous jokes and the eager heedy need that sometimes overtook.

I have only had one lover that I partook in such activities leisurely because i loved them and i enjoyed it with them.

The others, two, were because the female soldiers wanted pups but no man and they sought me out for my bulk, build and knowledge.

He heard her question and hummed. Thats a good question.

I will ask but this thus far it has been a required month of duty in Akashingo.