Noctisardor Bypass Life, Death, Religion, Survival

Things felt like they were on the right track, finally. It wasn't all going according to plan, or how Glaukos envisioned his first command really at all; but, nobody had died and that was a positive. They were missing a few in their number (the girls) but Glaukos was hesitantly hopeful that @Anselm had gone off to do as he was bid, and that he would return promptly so that @Heda's state could improve; then he could monitor @Druid and see her return to her old self again. He hadn't yet realized how deeply troubled the Den Mother was, or that the shift in to motherhood had potentially altered her in an irrevocable way.

@Fiona was doing her hunting; @Etienne worked in the den to heal, or was out and hiding in the dark but Glaukos wasn't keeping strict tabs on him. It felt good to have expelled the unruly, unreasonable, antagonistic factor that was Anselm. Heda was in the den and resting, and hopefully Druid was too.

He was feeling good for the first time in weeks; empowered, more like it. Rivenwood was working properly within (in his estimation, which did not involve interpersonal details because fuck that amirite), the bypass was well guarded, and he could now walk the grounds wholly believing his choices had been good enough, for now.

Many things were said by Anselm and Etienne, though three words stuck in Druid’s mind: “your psycho boyfriend.” She was not exactly in a position to judge Anselm’s adjectival choices, though it was the latter word that made her recoil as she trudged back to Dawnleaf, tucked herself among the other warm bodies in the den and snatched something that resembled sleep.

She twitched and stirred awake to Witch’s whispering in her ear. Druid lay still and listened, the nodded her head. She slowly sat up, stretched and stepped into the fresh air. Her bladder demanded to be emptied, though there was an even more pressing matter.

Drawing in a deep breath, Druid went looking for the bearish man. She found him strutting through the bypass like the cock of the walk. Once upon a time, this sight would’ve endeared her to him. Now, she could only think of how he was slowly destroying Rivenwood, one by one. He had taken much more than he’d ever provided.

Paying no heed to the danger and emboldened by a silently snarling Witch beside her, Druid rushed at Glaukos with a snarled, Get out! Leave! You’re not wanted here anymore!

And just like that, whatever sense of power and control he felt over Rivenwood dissolved in to chaos. When he saw the familiar figure of Druid outside of the den on one of her bids for fresh air, he was going to say hello and continue on his way; but instead, she came lunging through the trees to where he had been roaming and volleyed commands at him he had not expected to hear from her.

Druid was sick. It was a growing concern to those of Rivenwood, and Glaukos had noticed it himself as it crept up to overtake her; but it wasn't a huge concern once Fiona arrived. Now that she was standing before him, bristling, snarling, and commanding that he leave—this was proof that the sickness had grown. That was the only logical connection that Glaukos could make, at first.

He stared at her, tattered ears falling back atop his head for a moment, one bearish paw raised as he was mid-stride as she descended. The sense of accomplishment within Glaukos was shaky already, and having this woman shouting at him in this way should not have rattled him, but it did. He's frowning and bristling, but otherwise too stunned by this explosion out of Druid to react, for a second.

You're ill, Druid. Let me escort you back to bed, he offered, or appeared to offer, as he stepped boldly towards her as if to herd her back; she needed rest, clearly. She needed more medicine from Etienne, more mental magics from Fiona, whatever it took. What she said now made no sense to him. You're not yourself.

That's all this was. She was sick, and she would get better, and everything was fine.

cameo, back at den <3

while rivenwood fell to pieces around her ears, heda dreamed.
it was a waking dream, of course a, a glaze-eyed dream where she cradled each child to her breast until she knew the size and shape of all six, their voices, their opening eyes. their little voices.
druid was gone. druid was there. speech had fled heda for now — again? — and she retreated into the warm silence of instinct and the love she felt truly for the babes she tended.
eight gone.
six here.
she thought of them as her own more and more each day, sensing with the keen knowing of an animal at last what her sister lacked.
the world outside the den ceased to matter; where druid grew hollow, heda grew round, flanks filling and face softening to less angularity.
and as her body experienced this soft shifting of unforgiving soil into terra madre, so did her mind fly, and fly and fly, until heda felt each hour of the day she lived upon the island.
she might point out the waving lavender to one or other of the children — it did not exist.
or the gulls; she would swear she heard them calling, and smile softly to herself, curling around a nursing pup.
surrender — ah — it was sweet and good and did not let go of her.
"glaukos?" she called out one morning. or was it morning? heda did not know and found she did not care. the bear-man did not answer and so she closed her eyes again with a little sigh and settled back into her daffodil dreaming, imagining psalm swimming in the blue water, just ahead of her, just beyond her.

Druid’s lips skinned back from her teeth at his patronizing words, though there was something satisfying about the dumbfounded expression on his face. Whatever grim satisfaction she derived quickly fled her when the brute moved toward her. She crouched, ears disappearing against her skull, though she stood her ground.

And who’s responsible for that, hm? she seethed, injecting venom into the word as she answered her own question with, You. Her mismatched eyes flashed, every blade of fur on her body bristling. And now you’re destroying everybody else too. Well, it stops now! I want you out! Get out!

Was Witch still beside her? Druid didn’t dare glance away from Glaukos. Trusting that her sister was still there, she lunged at the man. She wasn’t bluffing. With so little regard for her own life, she leaped directly for the underside of his throat.

“Does he hit you?” Anselm asked in her memories and Druid could only think, We’re about to find out.

Raised voices and snarls pulled Fiona away from her work: adding more of the reeds from the hollow to her tincture. She made sure they were secured again with the large stone, then took off toward sounds of the scuffle.

"—stops now! I want you out! Get out!" were the words Fiona was finally able to discern from the bristling Druid. It was a heightened form of what she had seen the other day on the cliff. Something in Druid's head was not right, and there was no way in hell Fiona was about to step between the Den Mother's teeth and the guard-dog. Instead, she flattened herself to the ground on the sidelines, watching. The witch's game was that of survival, self-preservation, above all else. If she was dead, she was of no use to anyone. She might, however, learn a thing or two about one (or both) of the leaders in seeing them interact.

And so she remained quiet, still, and a neutral observing party. Her mismatched eyes glancing back and forth between the dueling parents. Whatever the outcome, Fiona suspected it would not be a pretty one.

Where was this coming from?

Druid blamed him for the state of Rivenwood Blamed. Not praised, not thanked.

What had she done except get fat and sick, and then require Glaukos to not only feed her, but her sister, her nieces? To find her a medic who was capable and willing? And all of this he did out of loyalty to her and the sense that, as the father of her children, it was his duty?

It struck Glaukos in that instant, as he looked upon Druid's contorted face and listened to her repeatedly demand he go—this had been her plan all along.

Find a man, fuck him, use him, and cast him out. It didn't matter what he had done to keep Rivenwood safe, to keep her alive; she wasn't happy about any of it. Nothing was good enough.

As infuriating as it was to have his rules ignored, his work belittled, and to be faced with individual after individual who flat-out disagreed with his position, having this come from Druid cemented something deep in Glaukos' already darkened heart.

Then, before he could do much of anything beyond process, Druid was leaping at him. His training kicked in, his instinct to deflect and protect himself was immediate, so when her teeth came for his throat he did what came naturally: backed up a step, made sure to pivot, and then slammed in to Druid with his shoulder so that she would be forced off-balance (or at the very least deflected, winded).

After everything I have done for you, this is the thanks I get? His voice was emotionless, and so cold it was as if time had reversed, bringing the full breadth if winter descending between them.

He was braced for more abuse from her. His shoulders and sides heaving, his face split by a grimace of teeth to warn her back; as unstable as everyone thought he was, this guard dog only went as far as necessary.

You're alive because of me. Our kids are alive because of me. All I've done is keep you safe, fed, and as healthy as I can. The fuck is wrong with you?

Glaukos stood at his full and towering height; a grimace of menacing teeth, eyes empty of emotion, body rigid and spiking with the adrenaline of this attack—but above all there was a deep and obvious hurt which he could not hold back.

He barely had to lift a finger to deflect her attack. Glaukos sidestepped with the practiced ease of a seasoned fighter, Druid’s teeth clicking on nothing but empty air with enough force that one cracked. Pain struck like lightning and a black paw darted to her mouth.

A second later, the Den Father’s shoulder slammed into her, driving her own balled fist into her teeth and knocking out several more as the force simultaneously knocked her backward. With only three legs on the ground, she lost her balance and flipped haphazardly to the dirt. Druid instinctively tried to break her fall by thrusting out an elbow, which cracked on impact.

Druid’s chest heaved for a few seconds before she unleashed a banshee shriek, drowning out Glaukos’s frosty words.

"Oh, guard-dog. You think yourself a savior, when you're the one who has caused all this," Fiona thought to herself as he spoke, his voice barely audible above Druid's scream. Clearly he was about as smart as a rock, considering he had all but trapped the two women here with no sense of self. Fiona decided he deserved the attack in that instant, and Druid deserved nothing of the injury he had inflicted upon her.

Now, the witch intervened. She put herself between Glaukos and Druid, and she stared the guard-dog in the face, her tone calm and neutral, but firm. You will leave her alone. Right now. Go patrol, blow off some steam, do whatever, but she is asking you for space, and what you've done has made this a thousand times worse. Fiona had decided that this guard-dog needed to go for good, but she wasn't ready to confront him with that just yet. That could come later. Perhaps in her own way she could rid this place of him. He had done nothing but hurt the wolves of the pack he was supposed to protect. The witch and Heda were, so far, the only two to escape his heavy hand.

Before he knew it Druid was down, her scream richocheting through the wasteland of his brainpan. His eyes were wide and wild, and he reeled backwards as soon as the hit landed, bracing for Druid's assault which he fully anticipated. Instead there was a deftly moving shadow and two bright eyes staring him down. Fiona.

Her demands to back off weren't heard. Glaukos was snorting and pacing as he backed off, so the eclipse of his shadow relented and gave the women the space they needed.

I was defending myself, he spat back to her, not that it would matter. It was Anselm all over again! No matter his intentions these people were determined to see him as the bad guy, and Glaukos had to accept there was nothing he could do.

If space was what Druid needed now, fine. She could have all the space in the wilds; he was done putting forth the effort to care for someone who clearly held such a low regard for him and his work.

Anselm's attitude was one thing, but the total betrayal of Druid in this moment completely shattered him. Glaukos would not linger—he would turn and stalk off to the other side of the bypass and keep away from every ungrateful asshole who had taken advantage of his charity.

She screamed until she tasted blood, with the added blare of red! just the fitting cherry on top. Druid choked, spat, then flung her head heavenward again.

Witch? she shrieked now. Witch!

Her mismatched eyes darted wildly around the woods, yet she saw no sign of her sister’s pale form. But another figure leaped out of the brush, yanking a final strangled cry from the downed Den Mother before she finally went silent.

Her whole mouth throbbed in tandem with the agony in her elbow. Ignoring the confrontation between Fiona and Glaukos, Druid focused on maneuvering upright, her one good foreleg trembling as it took all of her weight. Soon enough she stood, her right foreleg bent and her weight balanced on the remaining three.

Fiona now stood alone, Glaukos a speck in the distance beyond her, headed toward the arches. Druid hoped he was leaving for good and turned her head, thinking about calling for her sister again. Something stopped her: the sudden conviction that Witch wasn’t here.

Fiona? Druid said softly instead, sinking back to her haunches.

Balancing precariously, she raised her good paw to her mouth and realized her lip had split too. With a hiss and a wince, she planted her foot back on the ground. Her other still dangled uselessly as her tongue gently swept the bloody inside of her mouth. There were several gaps.

And there was no @Etienne to come to her rescue this time. Surely he and @Anselm were long gone. Druid couldn’t remember seeing @Dinah or @Ava Amara in days. @John was still somewhere far away. Who did that leave to take care of her? And Heda? And all the pups?

Her bleeding lip trembled. Druid stiffened her spine and blinked at Fiona again. Her eyes remained dry.

If he had simply left when asked, he wouldn't have needed to defend himself, and in turn wrecked Druid physically. He threw words at her, but Fiona stood her ground calmly until he finally saw fit to do as she asked and leave the scene. Only then did she turn back around to Druid, who had been screaming something about a witch. Fiona, of course, assumed the Den Mother was talking about her. (Unless, of course, Druid revealed Witch's name in their other ongoing thread, hah.)

Now that she could focus on who actually needed the attention, Fiona saw just how badly Druid was hurt. Her mouth was bleeding heavily, and she was favoring one of her front legs somehow. She was a complete disaster, and this was going to set her back a lot. Fiona checked her over, keeping her own emotions in check as she tried to gather exactly what had happened and how.

Do you want to stay here for a little while and rest, or would you rather try and walk to the den? Fiona asked. Druid was conscious, if not entirely with it, and she was already standing, albeit on three legs instead of four. The witch wasn't even entirely sure how she would treat her wounds just yet. The leg would need rest—that one was simple enough—but her mouth was going to be more difficult. She imagined Druid would need to be fed chewed-up meat like a pup, not exactly the step to freedom Fiona had imagined would be best for her.

The woman didn’t go anywhere. Druid didn’t know what she’d expected. Like Etienne and even Anselm, Fiona didn’t owe them anything, nor did she have any particularly strong ties to either Den Mother. But she offered her help willingly and Druid was in no position to deny it, especially now.

I think I need a minute, she said in reply to the healer’s question, back still braced against the onslaught of pain, clarifying pain.

She focused on steadying her breathing. She felt a little lightheaded and instinctively crouched, letting her head drop. Druid shut her eyes, then opened them and saw her own bloodied teeth scattered on the ground close by.

My bones shall rest in this loam forever, she whispered to herself, suddenly fully aware that Witch not only wasn’t here now, she hadn’t been here in years.

feel free to fade with them going back to the den in your next post & archive!

Druid was surprisingly coherent in that moment. As much as Fiona wanted to bring up the topic of Witch—the sister who wasn't—she would wait for the right opportunity.

Take as much time as you need, and we'll go slow when you're ready, Fiona assured her. Taking care of Druid was going to cut deep into her hunting time, she knew. Glaukos was either incapable or unwilling to hunt. Fiona hadn't seen Anselm or Etienne since she'd first gotten here, but she blamed that on her own self being split between being preoccupied with hunting, getting her mind wrapped around the minds of Druid, Heda, and Glaukos, and running back and forth between Rivenwood and the hollow.

Her tincture was nowhere near strong enough to keep nature at bay, and Fiona was beginning to wonder if she would be able to meet her own needs along with everybody else's. She would worry about that later, she supposed.

A cold feeling crept down her spine, like someone had dumped ice water over her head. Druid shuddered, which made her groan from the pain. She’d attacked Glaukos at her own peril, she knew. He’d barely even needed to touch her to hurt her so badly. Her tongue found the swollen cut in her lip, her eyes gone a little glassy.

When she finally mustered the wherewithal to move, she signaled Fiona and the two began the trek back to Dawnleaf. She felt immense gratitude toward the woman who guided her with care and patience she certainly hadn’t earned. Fiona could’ve thrown up her hands and walked out on this dumpster fire of a pack, yet here she was, helping Druid home.

At the doorway to the den, they stopped and Druid could only mutter, Thank you, Fiona, before ducking through the door.