Blackfeather Woods courage is knowing what not to fear

maybe @Damien ?

Cicero had always been thin, and looked yet thinner due to the thin, poor quality of his fur, but presently he looked much like a walking skeleton, barely alive. Cicero had barely had many efforts to hunt in recent times — there was no food and he knew that Malice needed the sustenance for her upcoming litter, so neither had he taken much from the caches.

Lethargy had taken over Cicero in the past few days. He had settled himself near a stream so that he could get up to drink, but he couldn't find the strength to go hunting and didn't want to take from the caches. Cicero closed his eyes and breathed in deep. He did not fear death, although he had never expected that it might make a grab for him like this. It was not that he had given up already — Cicero wanted to live — but if it would come for him, Cicero would accept it without much struggle.

Time seemed to slow down as Cicero reopened his mismatched eyes and glanced around the forest. It was almost peaceful, if it wasn't for the missing foliage. It was a warm day and the gentle rustle of the nearby creek was calming. Thirst was beginning to grow alongside the hunger, but Cicero couldn't find the strength to get up.

omg Iris are you a mind reader?
I NEEDED this thread :D
btw, the die say Damien shall fail on his hunt :(

Damien's body was on it's limit. His thinning limbs carried him as fast as his energy levels allowed, but this time it had not been enough. The slowing shadow watched the hare slip through his claws and run away from him. He cursed, he needed that thing for his brother, but he had not been strong enough which had already started looking like a frustrating pattern.

They had crossed little-to-no words lately, his brother and him. Damien had been distant again, he did not have an excuse this time but he had a reason to come back now. Aside from knowing whether his claim would have Blackfeather's paramount spy's support, Damien felt anguish to see his brother let go of himself in such way. The creature looked famish, but what was worrying was his attitude about it.

The dark prince approached with silent steps, head low and low ears. He was below Cicero in rank, and he respected his current position, but Damien's body language this time was more apologetic and remorseful than submissive.

"I tried hunting for you, brother... But the prey is scarce." he spoke in a low voice as he stopped advancing a few paces away from Cicero's skeletal body.

At first, Cicero did not even noticed Damien's approach. An ear canted in his direction, and the words were no surprise to Cicero. He wondered idly if it would be his flesh that they would eat from soon. There was little left on his bones, though; would it be enough?

Leaving his macabre thoughts alone for the moment, Cicero shared, "Perhaps it will not be necessary any longer soon." He did not want to worry his brother; he wanted only to warn Damien for what might come. Cicero did not desire death, but he hoped that if it came to him, he could at least speak with his brother again, like before, to lay by his side and catch up the many months that had been lost between them.

As he looked up, eyes rolling to the corners of guys eyes, this desire was mirrored in his eyes, though he did not speak of it. Damien had been a mystery to Cicero of late, and it was not as easy to read his brother's mind as it had once been.

Damien's apologetic approach was met with negative assumptions from Cicero. That changed it all. Damien's guilt turned a completely new route, and anger kicked in. His anger was towards himself for not being able to sustain his brother, but most deeply towards Burke for prioritizing his bitch and bastards instead of ensuring his own son's life.

"Don't even dare thinking about it, Cicero." growled Damien in response to his brother's negative vibes. "Get up." he ordered, and dug his nose beneath his brother's underarm to push him upright. He could not lose Cicero as well, not after all he had gone through, not after being abandoned by his father, not after losing his mother and brother to the void, and not because of Burke's fault. He would not allow such thing to happen because he wouldn't be bale to forgive himself.

All he desired was to be able to rest now. He would see where that journey would take him, whether it would ensure his life or whether he would not wake up tomorrow. Life was a mystery like that. You never knew what the next day may bring. Yet his brother would not allow him to rest. At the prods to his armpit, Cicero came upright on shaking legs. He knew that a big part of his present state was his own fault. He had not realised how dire the situation was in time, and he should not have experimented so much with the toxins so close before the famine had hit.

A soft sigh escaped his mouth and Cicero leaned against his brother, his legs shaking, while he waited for where they would go and if there was a follow-up plan at all.

Damien found a bit of peace when his brother pushed himself up for as much as it pained him. He hadn't thought what he'd do if he managed to make Cicero get up, but there had to be food somewhere for them to eat in the forest, and if there wasn't any then Damien would go rip it off that Bitch's belly for his brother to survive. That way she could, at least, serve a purpose for the pack.

The dark prince allowed his brother to lean against him, and walked towards his own den to put lay his brother down in safety as he figured out what to do. His den was safer than anywhere in Blackfeather Woods, and there was a stream running by in case Cicero needed water. There he'd stay until things went back to normal, and Damien would be taking care of him. He wouldn't allow his brother to die.

Cicero followed Damien's lead, leaning against his brother for support. He would be okay, he figured. Soon plants would start to grow again, which would attract more wildlife, and he would be able to eat again. If he would not be around for that time, Cicero would not mourn his own loss, for he would be elsewhere, likely nowhere, even.

These thoughts lead him to wonder aloud, "Damien... Where do you think we go when we die?" Death was a subject that his brother would not enjoy breaching now, Cicero guessed, but he thought it an important one nevertheless. And if there was anything this life taught them, it was that one did not always get what they desired.

A bit of PP to keep things moving, let me know if you think it's too much and I'll be happy to edit!

Damien's eyes shifted away from his brother as he asked a macabre question. Damien hadn't thought about that question too much himself, nor did he like to wonder about such things. He did not, indeed, take the question well, for he was sensitive about his brother being in such state. Damien wondered if his brother was punishing him for distancing himself, was he trying to make him feel more guilty?

"The void," answered Damien coldly after a long silence, clearly uncomfortable with Cicero's choice of subject. "That's where we will meet mother again, if that's what you're asking..." Damien was trying to deflect the subject from Cicero, and focusing it on something that neither of them could do anything about. The dark boy constantly found himself thinking about his mother and how much he wanted her to be alive, but it was clear now that he had more important things, real life things to care about, like the well-being of his alive family. There was no room for depression anymore.

"Wait here, I'll get you something to eat..." instructed Damien as they got to his den. There was enough space for both Damien and Cicero to fit in, so he helped his brother inside and walked out to hunt. He was lucky, for once, and found a racoon digging something out of the ground, distracted enough for Damien to approach and end it's life with a brusque turn of his neck. Then he brought it back to the den and dropped it in front of Cicero, making a huge effort not to devour the thing himself.... He was starving.

oh, forgot to say the hunt was a success, as rolled here: link!

The void. Cicero was not as learnt in the teachings as his brother, he found out, for he had never heard of this void. It sounded dark and cold, but who knew what any place would truly look like after death? It was not like anyone had ever seen it and returned, as far as Cicero knew. So no one knew what it was like until one was there. Yet he did not mention it, not wanting to dishearten Damien. The thought of seeing Meldresi again was a pleasant prospect, for their time spent with their mother had been too short, but he did not share that either.

Cicero waited, nearly falling asleep many times before Damien's return. He was shook awake when something was thrown in front of him. A moment or two Cicero sniffed the raccoon corpe, inspecting it before finally digging his teeth into the flesh. The bites he took were small, for he was so hungry and emaciated he could not devour anything even if he'd wanted to. He swallowed them difficultly and looked at his brother, seeing the desire on his face. "Eat with me," Cicero murmured; he did not want his brother to share in his fate.

It was painful to see Cicero struggle to even eat. What an irony it was, how hunger made it hard even to eat. But little steps towards nourishment were better than a slow death by starvation, and if that meant Cicero would survive long enough to make it through the famine that was sure to end at some point, Damien would take it.

Cicero urged Damien to eat with him, to which Damien was very tempted to indulge. But he did not. "You need it more than me. I can still hunt for myself." stated the dark prince in a strange mix of stern kindness. "I need you to stay alive," he then admitted softly, the sound of his voice hinting that there was more depth to that statement than it would seem.

At Damien's rejection of his offer to eat, Cicero lay his head down on the den floor and left the food be for now. It was hard to process it, for his body was not used to this much at once anymore; he would rest and eat the rest later, Cicero decided. A smile danced across Cicero's sunken face when Damien admitted to something. It was always hard to tell how deep things were with Damien; if his comments were just as they were, or if there were deeper intentions behind them.

Cicero licked his lips and swallowed dryly as he looked up at Damien with his haunting mismatched eyes. There was a strangely soft quality to Damien's voice, a rare treat to his ears. "Is that so," he said thoughtfully. Cicero had not given much thought to how his death might impact those around him, truthfully. He wondered in that moment how their lives would proceed were he to stay alive. Would he ever stand beside Damien as true equal, in his rightful place? Or would Damien's heart forever continue to lie to itself in lieu of what others might think, in lieu of more... conventional choices?

It was a hard future to predict, particularly because Cicero was not the one in charge. He was not the one who could change how things would turn up; all the balls were in Damien's court.

Yet it drove him to query softly, "How does Damien think his life will be in a year's time?" For perhaps it was not a prediction — one's future was rarely as one painted it to be, Cicero knew — but it would be an interesting discussion regardless.

Damien's affection for Cicero was deeper than he even knew, but admitting it would mean acknowledging a weak point. He could not afford to be seen as weak, or everything he wanted in life could be in danger. He felt better by keeping his brother close, safe, and continue life making sure Cicero was always close. And still that was always a tough task.

"Is that so?" purred Cicero's weak voice, and Damien's heart pumped hard and slow. With fear. "You know it is, " he admitted, and nudged his brother's head softly as he laid down next to his brother.

The next question came out of nowhere, as everything seemed to do when it came to Cicero. A year was not much less than the time Damien had been alive, and a shit ton of unexpected things had already happened. A lot could happen in a year in Blackfeather Woods.

"How do you come up with these questions?" asked Damien instead of responding the question he'd been asked. He was curious, the dark prince wanted to try and understand the way his brother's mind worked. Could it be possible that he was truly enlightened by his namesake? Could it be possible that Cicero was touched by Sheogorath?

An amused chuckle rumbled in Cicero's throat, though it was barely audible as he laid his head down on his paws. He felt at ease here, talking philosophy with his unphilosophical brother. His laughter turned into coughs when Damien asked him how he came up with these questions, deciding to keep the question itself unanswered. A weary smile rested on Cicero's face as he looked at Damien with admiration, revelling in how different he and his brother were.

"How did Damien become so trained in avoiding their answers?" Cicero returned, answering the question with a question of his own, just like Damien had. He had no answer to this question anyway, of course; the questions simply came to him, he did not come up with anything. He just wanted to peel open the frays of the closed book that was Damien with them, wanted to see Damien's soul. Perhaps because he knew that somewhere inside of there was the love that he longed for so desperately; if only he could get close enough to see, to know, he could die contently.

Sorry this one's short :s

Clever as he was, the prince of riddles avoided Damien's own question giving him a taste of his own medicine. Damien looked at his brother, noticing a faint brightness in his eyes and chugging at his ironic response. Cicero was, and would always be a mystery to Damien, and probably to every one else as well.

"It becomes a reflex when one lives with riddlers like yourself," he answered jokingly. "Besides, you always seem to ask the questions I cannot answer." he added with a shrug.

The smile spread across Cicero's faces, lighting up the dull eyes in his sunken, dark eye sockets. It was always amusing when Damien wanted to avoid certain subjects. Conversation was often like dancing to Cicero, but even moreso with Damien than with anyone else. Most wolves just thought on the questions and gave their answer, waiting for approval or rejection that never came thereafter, but Damien tried to avoid talking about anything personal, it seemed, at all costs.

With an amused smile still painting his features Cicero answered, "Those are the best sort of questions." As they were. Yet he had not received an answer yet, which gave him more information than Damien probably knew. He really didn't know what he was doing, then, didn't have a plan laid out. That was alright, really; Cicero didn't have a plan either. But it was still good to know. After a short pause Cicero continued the string of questions: "If one is drowning and another cannot help them, standing by on the shore, does that make them responsible for their deaths?" It was in a whole different line of questions, and soon Cicero shook his head, for Damien's answer did not matter — Cicero just hoped he understood the sentiment behind the words. No one was responsible for his present state, truly.

Another, more global question followed it up as Cicero asked, "What is the most important purpose in life?" Their lives, anyone's lives... But knowing Damien, he would likely take it up on a personal level. Whether he would receive an answer remained yet a mystery, but that was part of the fun of asking.

no need to apologise :3

I'm in love with Cicero

Damien mirrored Cicero's smile with one of his own; that sort of things were reserved for few. It was true that Damien was reserved, for some reason he struggled to put his heart out there, to show the world just how much he cared... Or perhaps he was just scared.

Chatting with Cicero was usually a complicated dace, indeed. But it was even more so for Damien who had to pick his words carefully to avoid talking too much. If there was someone Damien feared showing affection it was his brother, but he longed so much to do it that it was painful just looking at him so closely. He would often get abducted by the enigma that were his hypnotizing bi-toned eyes.

Damien analyzed Cicero's riddle before even thinking of laying out a response. In fact, Damien understood where the metaphor was coming from, and feared giving response that would encourage Cicero to continue giving up on himself. Damien stayed silent, loud emotions spilling out his colorless eyes.

It wasn't relieving to see that Cicero did not care much about Damien's response. It was unnerving at the least, for Damien knew not his brother's intentions. However, the next question shot at him changed the mood of the conversation completely. It did not seem to be a deep question, one that coming from others would be easy to answer... But Cicero wasn't just anyone. It made the dark prince think deeply.

"How would you answer that?" asked Damien in return after a thoughtful silence, not quite avoiding the question but trying to get an idea of what Cicero might be thinking himself. He sure wasn't looking very optimistic about life at the moment, and although he wouldn't admit it Damien was fearful of how far Cicero might take his indifference towards himself.

thanks <3 i love playing him, and our threads together are some of my favourites. :) their dynamics are so complex <3

'How would you answer that question'. How very Damien to deflect yet another question. More information was gathered by the question's deflection however. Cicero might have pressed for an answer any other time, but right now he did not want to take anything. He just wanted to give with what little time he had left.

On a personal level, Cicero guessed that Damien already knew what the purpose of life was. The guess was hardly truly a guess, for it was no secret in Cicero's eyes, the devotion he carried towards Damien. Should he live a life by his brother's side, it would be a life fulfilled for him.

Yet on a more global level, there was really no telling. It was a complex story, truly, especially because what created it was all these individuals in the world and their own reflections on meaning. Or was the meaning biologically driven, were they no more than mere animals? There was no telling, and so to give an objective answer would be difficult.

"It is a very complex question," said Cicero. "There is no knowing if the lives of wolves are truly driven by spiritual beings and their bidding, if it will bring purpose to do as they please. Yet there is also no proof wolves are merely beasts looking for procreation and no more. Cicero thinks the latter cannot be true as a sole element, at least." He did not speak of the former, wishing no disrespect upon their religion. For faith was a form of purpose, regardless of whether the deities were real or not.

He continued to say, "Cicero thinks that the purposes of all individuals are what create life's purpose, in a way. Of course..." He looked at Damien and smiled fondly; "Many do not know their own purposes." Either because they had never thought on them, or because they did not wish to face what was deep inside of them.

Ah! threading with you is always amazing! <3

Cicero admitting that his question was a complex one brought a pleased smile to Damien's face. A good reason to avoid them for the hot-headed Damien. Cicero was capable of taking a plethora of aspects into account before giving an answer, something Damien lacked and would probably be a weak spot in his leadership. He wouldn't admit it, and actually he didn't realize, but he feared his own deficiencies.

Touching the religious area didn't upset Damien. He was faithful that the gods existed, but whether they gave purpose in life or not was entirely up to the mortals unless the gods decided to wrap their dark claws around the world one day and interfere on mortal affairs (which was actually believed to be one of Mephala's favourite activities). Damien decided to ignore the topic altogether, knowing that delving deeper into it with Cicero could result in an endless philosophical conversation that he did not feel like engaging. Instead, Damien focused on Cicero's final answer, which he found to agree with.

"I guess you're right... You make your purpose whatever you like..." Damien voiced, finding a simpler version of Cicero's words. "I think I haven't given much thought to my own purpose, to be honest..." admitted the dark prince turning to stare back at the dark distance. "Keeping all of you safe would probably be the best answer you'll get from me," he said as his eyelids sealed, with a hint of a promise in his calm voice.

Cicero looked at Damien as he processed all the words shared between them in that moment. It was always a treat to see Damien think about things rather than rushing at things head first and sinking his teeth into them. Damien shared that he did not know his purpose, which seemed fitting enough; and that protecting the wolves in the pack was as close to it as he could imagine.

There was a playful glint shimmering in Cicero's sunken eyes as he looked up at Damien and said, "Ah, yes. Often one's purposes are right in front of them, even if they do not acknowledge it to be so." It was likely clear what he spoke about — the unspoken, that which they did not speak of, really, which Cicero had put aside for now and which Damien was trying his hardest to deny existance — but he did not mind. He was just curious for his brother's response.

The unspoken was implied, and Damien got the message. His eyes remained closed for a moment, and his lips pursed nervously. Things were calm and good when Cicero wasn't trying to get something out of him, they got along awesomely and enjoyed eachother's company, but when Cicero shot straight for a confession Damien's world turned upside down.

"Is there something you'd like to say, brother?" said Damien as he turned to lock eyes with Cicero. There was indeed a hidden message under the riddler's words, and Damien just couldn't take it anymore.

A playful smile engulfed Cicero's face as tension rose and Damien questioned his words. He wasn't intending to tell Damien a thing, of course -- it was so much more fun to let him figure it out himself. Besides, what would words really do? Cicero knew that they were intended for one another; yet Damien was not ready to acknowledge it.

A pregnant pause fell between them for a moment in which his previously dull eyes glinted. Then he said, "It is better to let others figure out their lives themselves, with a nudge every now and then." He knew it would likely make Damien impatient or more frustrated, but that was part of the fun.

maybe we could finish this soon since it is getting outdated with all the crazy stuff? :)

A heavy silence fell upon the den after Cicero's response. Damien's stark eyes expressed a mix of anger and frustration towards Cicero's response, and he felt powerless against it. The dark Prince growled and turned around to settle in for the night next to his brother. There was nothing else he could do. He did not stand being away from his brother, but keeping him close was painful for he did not want to let him in completely. Damien could not return the kind of affection that his brother wanted from him, it simply didn't exist in the form Cicero believed it did, but the black and white riddler was Damien's closest friend and ally. Damien feared losing him too.

Aight! Loved this thread <3

A smile could not help but creep upon the philosopher's face as Damien growled and settled on the ground, back towards Cicero, but close enough to know it would not last until the morning light. Cicero placed his head softly besides Damien's forelegs, pressing his back against his brother's, and closed his eyes, ready for some sleep. He felt tired and his eyes heavy, and he was not sure he would even survive through the night. It was perhaps for that very reason that he was certain Damien's frustration would not last long; he would be happy enough to see Cicero alive in the morning. Time would tell if the nourishment would do its work.