Greatwater Lake When remembering a life lost

@Olive @Nemesis @Abraxas figured it was time for the big thread! NO FATALITIES OR MAJOR INJURIES

She was leading him somewhere at a fast pace and of course he followed. His memory still hadn't returned and Olive seemed to become desperate. They were at the edges of a territory, the borders reeked of blood and it brought back the faintest memory. A fight....Him running for his life with purpose.. and just as quickly as it came it faded but he did remember being here. "its not safe here. I don't know why but we have to go!" He said loudly and shouldered her in the opposite direction.

Dakarai felt panic grip him even though they were far enough away that they shouldn't be detected by the pack. Why had she brought him here? It was foolish and dangerous!

---

He remembered Dakarai.
the male that had come to their borders, in search of refugee. who had entered their lands, and put on a show of bravado. and yet, what had he contributed? nothing. and what had he taken? all that he could. he took their prey, their shelter and their protection, and then he scorned it. and little ignited the boy's wraith then this great sense of injustice, of betrayl. 

"Traitors should expect such." he called as he melted from the trees, expression it's same eerie mask of emotionlessness. his voice matched his expression, toneless yet cutting. he stalked closer, caring little about the woman at the man's side. she did not have debts to pay. she was merely a bystanding, no place in this reckoning. he had eyes only for the male, and when he spoke again, his voice was low, yet as casual as if one may mention an abundane of rain in the area. "You forget your debts, Dakarai."

---

A boy appeared from the trees with a rather odd sense of coldness to him, stating that Dakarai owed debts. He snorted and then full on laughed. Who did this kid think he was? "kid. I don't know you. Maybe I used to but apparently I have amnesia. Now back off, I don't have time for child's play"  he said bluntly, staring the youth down. He stepped between the kid and Olive knowing that danger could come in even the smallest forms.


Whatever he did to them, he must've done for a reason. Everything had a reason to it, fate always guided you in the right path. Since this wasn't the child's territory, they were both on even ground yet Dakarai felt his tail rise as he stared at the boy.

She so wanted him to remember. How it pained her that his memory still forsook him! Dakarai’s madcap wife had tried everything she could think of, from herbs to tinctures to beautifull spun stories but the dark stranger always stared back at her, blinking simply, unknowingly, unencumbered by their past. The pressure behind it all was crushing her. Olive felt as though she was competing - but competing with who, herself? It seemed that was exactly right: the fae was competing with herself to prove that their love was written in the stars, as immovable and unshakable as the Sunspire. Olive had their rapport laid out on a microfiche slide and was constantly examining it, mending it, bending it to be what she felt and wanted it should be.

Olive knew that the sense of artifice would asphyxiate them one day, but what worried Olive more was that might happen in Dakarai never recovered his memory and never recovered his love for her. Olive loved him far too much to keep him shackled to her out of obligation and a sickening sense of sentimentality. This new Dakarai [though rough around the edges and quite guarded] deserved freedom to live the life he wanted... not the one that was thrust upon him. Her love wasn’t ownership, just as his love couldn’t be taken — only given. Perhaps they were fighting a losing battle; perhaps theirs was a type of love that came around only once in a lifetime and had overstayed its welcome. When would it be time to call it quits, to concede defeat to the gods?

Afterall, the gods giveth and the gods taketh away. 

But there was one last thing Olive had to try before she cut free her kindred spirit.

She knew they were close to those Blackfeather Fuckers. Olive nearly had the way memorized, since her excursion with the golden boy, Armand [oh, how she missed the wraith!]. One day, in her desperation, the tiny shewolf concocted plan of… immersion therapy, of sorts. She led him to the pack's borders without a clue, without telling him where or who they were off to see… but when they approached the territory of the stygian pack of wolves, Dakarai’s mind seemed to churn. Olive felt no fear, no foreboding at this time — hell, the blood-scented borders barely registered in her faculties. All eyes were upon Dakarai, watching, waiting to see if the severity of this recollection, this place, would trigger anything at all.

At first, nothing. Suddenly, then he panicked! He shouldered her away from the haunting forest and the portentous wolves housed inside and led her away, darting away from the territory as if they had the hellhounds biting at their hocks. Olive’s heart leapt and she followed him willingly, excitedly, greyscale banner lashing behind her in a feat of success! However, when he husband slowed his flight and looked at her, exasperated and confused, her insides leadened once more. They had been so close! As soon as Dakarai’s memory had come back it had faded; but it had been there. Something had clicked in his mind to evoke such a volatile reaction from a quite even-keeled man. Olive, overcome with vexation and chagrin, decided they couldn’t lose this. They HAD to go back; It was all right there, if they could only grasp it! The earthen druid was reckless, heedless, unwilling to let this slip away despite the risk. ”No!” she cried. “We must go back! We must—“ 

A young man stepped out from their surroundings and recognized Dakarai. Dakarai positioned himself between herself and the newcomer, but Olive saw no need for such obstruction to justice. Olive’s slight form brazenly navigated its way around Dakarai to Abraxas, as if he were the keeper of all Dakarai’s memories. “Sir, can you help us? Please, shepherd us through your territory?” she beseeched the young man, ignoring his acrid entrance, as if this was a completely rational request.

the male's pure arrogance, his stupidity and his nerve had the boy wish he could sink his fangs into his face that very moment. Dakarai had come to their borders and left after taking whatever benefitted him. He was a traitor, vile and disgusting, who had found the blood and power of the woods, the same he had lusted after, not to his taste, and promptly fled. But then the woman spoke, and he looked to her, curiosity glinting in his gaze. she had no idea, no idea of the wood. she was ignorant, naive.

the boy was not his brother. it was what had him hesitate, think a moment, and ultimately not fly directly toward the male's face. no, he thought quickly and efficiently,  thoughts thought and quickly eliminated until the boy knew what he ought to do. firstly his gaze shifted toward the woman, and in an attempt to look more of the helpful sort, his features softened and the coldness faded. "Very well." came his response, an odd response to her even odder question. 

"You do not remember me. You taught me to fight, and one day you vanished,"  he said flatly to the male, hatred simmering within but eerily well hidden. Yes, he would lead them into the wood. He would lead them deep, and then he would call for the brotherhood, and perhaps justice would be served to the traitor. For if not today, then tomorrow, and perhaps the day after that. For Dakarai's cowardliness did not go forgotten, his traitorous act did not fade within his mind. With a glance to the woman, he dipped his muzzle, motioning with s flick of his tail that they ought to join him. "Come"

Should they both abide, he would lead them both into the wood, perhaps, even all the way to Wolfskull. 

Dakarai was no fool, for though he couldn't know what the boy was plotting he could see the hate that simmered beneath a cold facade. Good attempt at a poker face but it didn't work on him. Olive seemed naive to the boys anger however, so it was up to Dakarai to keep them both safe. What smart wolf would follow a wolf into a pack marked with blood, especially an angry and creepy pup?


"No. We will not follow you into unfamiliar territory. If you wish to help us call for another member of your pack." He looked at Olive and shook his head, hoping she'd understand how dangerous the pup's idea was. He looked at Abraxas again and gave a weary smile "I really don't remember you but-" suddenly he felt something in his head pop and he blanked out. He remembered everything so suddenly, and he gave Olive a horrified look.


"Darling how could you bring us here? You know how these wolves are!" He gasped and walked over to her pushing her gently away from the borders. He gave a steady look to Abraxas and shook his head "I have no explanation that you would understand. I can only say that I did it for someone very important to me. We will not be going anywhere with you, and if you try to harm us I'll have no shame in attacking you too" his voice was cold as he spoke to Abraxas.

@Nemesis are you still coming in?Also I figured that I should bump the thread along Incase she doesn't show. Hopefully Abraxas can still attack them and stuff if Nem doesn't show.

The stranger seemed obliged enough to act as their vanguard and to chauffeur the two desperadoes through their dark, dank woods. If this place was half as ghastly and offensive as the stories Dakarai spun about his short time here, he would have no choice but to remember. Souls just didn’t forget; they remembered all. Dakarai’s memories and their life together was in there, somewhere, hiding from the truth. They just needed something big enough to rock those memories to the top again.

Her heart stopped in her chest because Dakarai was refusing. They were so close that the thought of throwing it all away because they were scared was not an option to Olive. Surely, Dakarai would see that? Or perhaps since he couldn’t remember what they were together, he did simply did know know the depth of what they were at risk to lose. If he knew, if he knew, if he knew... if he just knew, he wouldn't reject this idea; wouldn't be rejecting this chance to regain their life back. 

“No,” the enciente woman supplicated, cutting her figure to look at the atramentous wolf at her side. She didn’t need his protection; for what was he protecting? She was nothing without this, without him. Their family was nothing without him. In that moment, Olive felt such a penetrating sense of desperation that she thought she might die.  “Dakarai—“ her voice, one strong, cracked and dropped into an undertone. But she continued. “No, my king, please, let’s go…”

If he would do nothing, then she would have to do everything. Suddenly and silently, she broke away from Dakarai’s side, pushed past Abraxas and breached the scented borders in a hurried, madcap saltate. The hoyden wanted to create a pursuit, forcing Dakarai to enter the territories and do all the things his gut told him not to do. Olive gave no thought to the inherent danger of the act, forget everything that had been told to her about the stygian hellhounds. Foolish it may have been, yes, but Dakarai had always promised to protect her — and if he had been willing to risk his life for her, she had to do that same for him. 

Such were the duties of a devoted wife.

oh, the arrogance. the arrogance, and the stupidity. the dark male, thinking himself so high and mighty, on the borders of the pack he had wronged. and yet, still, the hate simmered deep inside the boy, totally unseen. he was a master at this emotionlessness, had been since birth. and he would not let his guise slip, not now. even as he yearned to summon the Dark Master, or perhaps his hellhound of a brother; he did not. no, he waited. even as the entitled, arrogant words spilt from his maw, until the woman moved and quite quickly did his next action become clear. he did not move as the woman slipped behind him, and then finally his expression broke and became hard and cold once more as he looked to the male. 

it was oh so easy to see the woman meant something to him. the very same woman who now, as a stranger on their land, had effectively painted a target on her back. " You are a traitor, Dakarai. You took from the Brotherhood, and then you ran like a coward. We do not forget." he announced, words clear and detached. However, the debts that the male owed could be paid, here and now, and it would not be him that the boy attacked. No, for there was so much more pain involved when one hurt those close to another. 

swiftly, silently, he turned on his heel, bounding after the woman with minimal effort, and then, launching himself straight at her hind leg, looking to fasten his fangs in a limb, though he would take any grip he could get. he sought to slow her, primarily, and then to draw blood. until her pain, and the male's pain, weighed even with the debts he still owed.

"Olive no!" he turned as she ran over the borders. Now he was pissed and the boy's words only angered him further. He glared at the boy with so much venom that it was as if Dakarai was gone, replaced by a demonic entity seeking to share the force of its wrath with others. "I dont care about you Blackfeather fuckers!" He roared his memory finally snapping back into place full force, the memories returning as he saw the male rush after Olive.


The boy was quick yet Dakarai had his size going for him and he was on them in an instant, red clouding his gaze as he saw Abraxas latched onto his wife's hind leg. He rushed forward and slammed his head into the smaller boy, not caring if he injured or maimed the hateful youth. His jaws were quick at work to snap at Abraxas several savage and enraged growls and snarls leaving his mouth. "Olive go! I remember now go!" He screamed at her, his eyes full of hurt at how stupid she had been.

He remembered her in that instant and her beauty stunned him, causing him to pause and stare into her eyes. She was his peace, his queen, his wife, his children's mother, his savior and she had put herself and their children in danger. It was stupid and reckless and he couldn't help himsel he snapped his jaws at her "I said GO!" he ordered, though there was a deserate softness to his tone that would make her know he was back.

Olive shot through the landscape, absconding deeper into the sinister woods and maneuvering between the portentous timbers. Her body, small and featherlight, made a audacious haste to outrun her own fear: fear that she had made a huge mistake. The pallid interloper refused to look behind, could not look behind, for fear that Dakarai had not followed her in a desperate, loving pursuit. Had she sacrificed herself to Blackfeather for his freedom? Was Dakarai now, in her death, free of the shackles that bound him to her?  Her distressed ears swept down and behind, craning behind her for any ill-boding footfalls. If Dakarai had in fact not followed her, this would surely be her end. The end of her children. The end of a life worth living.

The dove fluttered and cried out as something wrenched her ankle, easily throwing her slight frame aside. Ivory, blunted knives grated down the tender bone of her leg in her pitch and she hit the ground hard. Hot pain flooded every nerve in her body; she was alight, on fire, helpless in the jaws of someone who meant her harm. Every kick of her delicate limb did nothing to fell her enemy and from her trembling lips spilled mournful yelps that accompanied every one of her contorted motions. She prepared herself for the sickening snap elicited from the snapping of a bone; as easy as snapping a twig.

Suddenly the hold on her ankle slackened and the lamb wrested herself free, quickly rolling and springing up in a stance of the utmost distress. Her black lips knocked op over gums as she snarled and a surge of energy pump pump pumped through her bloodstream. She was blinded by horror and it took several moments to realize that her raven knight had followed her and was ensnared with the devil. After the sight of him be beaten by the angered ungulate, this was the more horrific thing she had ever seen. Her love, who had achieved such peace not more than a week ago, was battling and drawing blood and hating. What had she done!

But he spoke words. He remembered. Could be it true? Did his memories come back or was this a momentary lapse in his fugue state; as he had experienced many times before? It was all too much to the feathered seraph and she lept into the air, twisting her airborne body and letting loose a long series of snarls, barks and yips as if she were some sort of macabre cheerleader. Dakarai wanted her to go but she would stay; she would never leave him. She would live by him and die by him — and if it happened to be today, at the behest of these hellions… then so be it.

Please skip over Olive for the next few turns, i’ll bring her back in if/when appropriate!

fangs closed over a dainty limb, cut through flesh and tore it as easily as dozens of daggers might. but the boy knew that the traitor ought not to be far behind, and moments later he felt a head slam into his side. he gave a final savage tug to the ankle which he held before it slipped away betwixt his jaws, and he rounded on the dark male as he begun to deliver his own blows. he snapped back, felt fangs tear his fur, but his fast, trained blows were sure to do the same.

and then, abruptly, the male paused. the boy did not. the male was stupid enough to pause in the midst of battle to gaze doe-eyed at the woman, and the boy took advantage by lunging for the males forelimb, fast as an adder and fangs agape, ready to clamp down on whatever he may. he remembered te time the male had taught him, when he was but a few months old, how to fight. But the boy was older now. older, and stronger. and even should the pair leave without enough pain for him to believe the debt to be paid, the boy would summon the wraiths and killers that lived within the wood. for not only had the male turned traitor, no, he had attacked and trespassed on the land of the Brotherhood. (Never mind the fact that he had invited them initially; for he had thought to bring them to the caverns.)

No, the boy's rage was lit, and like the long-burning ember that was his hate toward Atshen, so did this spark and burn, and he hated the male in such a way that it tore at him, and the light that was hate burned in his optics of ice. little did the boy know that one day, perhaps, his hate and pride would very well be the end of him.

His fangs met fur and he tore the still downy fur of the young boy, only to be taken advantage of in his moment of weakness. Olive didn't run but began to cheer him on, which would have caused him to groan if he didn't now have a boy attached to his foreleg. Pain seared through his limb but before the youth could injure him badly he slammed his head down, attempting to knoch his thick and strong skull into the boy's forehead. While he slammed his head down he yanked his leg up, drawing Abraxas up into the blow to make it difficult to avoid.

on Mobile sorry

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Granted permission to PP Atshen.

Commotion at her borders was not uncommon. In the event trouble transpired, she sent her Raven, her judge of souls to collect the heartbeats of those who he deemed unnecessary to the race of survival. Abraxas was skilled in every form, so she paid no mind to the impending threat of trespassers upon her land. However, as snarls broke the air, both of her own son and then threat at hand, she did not hesitate to break at a run, travelling to the border with growing concern. In the near distance she heard a shout, an attempt to halt the foolish woman's course; she had passed over the line. A cruel upturn of the corners of her mouth developed in a wicked smile from the Dark Mistress, it a reason to end the fight with blood, and with justification. While the same could not be said for the unnamed man, who she seconds later did she identify as branded traitor Dakarai; she would find reason enough to draw his blood and would not leave without.

She did not care for Dakarai. She had not noticed when he left. However, she cared for her son. And so she brought her other son to the battlefield, the son of unparalleled fury and little restraint. With her she summoned @Miraak, a man she knew desired his redemption and had the capabilities to do it. But she was not concerned for the safety of her troupe. Quite the opposite, Dakarai had proved useless to Blackfeather Woods, an underachiever, of no worth to the Dark Brotherhood in the slightest. She had no reason to believe that his decision to pick a fight would inflict dangerously upon her own. A man with no skill was lesser than minuscule in the face of her, and her kin. Dissolving all that was scum about the earth was what they were trained to do, what Dakarai would have been trained to do had he not run a coward in the face of supremacy. One glance about the scene told her all she needed to know, and she did not hesitate to front her own assault. Her target was the man himself, not his weakling bride, for it was him and him only who dared to return to the place of his abandonship. “Don’t play games with us, Dakarai,” She gave one verbal warning; a warning of the tricky line he threatened to cross, of the cautionary and hazardous road he was about to go down. “You don’t play a game you know you can’t win,” she could not help but to mock, or was it a persuasion, for it was not only his own life but the one of his beloved he hung in the balance of life and death and Nemesis had little desire to prove and prove again to an ignorant man that he stood no chance against them. 

But that was not the end of her assault, not in the slightest.

A snarl developed within the fire-lit depths of her being and cracked her maw as she sprung, launching herself at the neck of the dark man, determined and attempting to lock him within her jaws to force a surrender. From her peripherals, she could only see the molten orange eyes of her son, advancing behind the Dakarai, poised to strike and so he did, attempting and aiming to follow his mother's attack from behind. In that moment, she was in little mind to decapitate him though he rightfully deserved, but should he refuse a simple surrender, she would attempt just that. It did not need to be harder than it needed to be; many of the simple minded beings such as the two pair before her did not understand that. They were clearly in no physical state and skill to be imposing a battle upon the borders of a pack collectively trained to kill. Instead, it was the principle of respect, and the Dark Mistress would have her way, after all, it was her lands that his wife had dared to cross. If Dakarai did not accept defeat when acceptance was necessary, it would not be him, but his mate what she would take within her trap of a jaw and clench between her fangs until there was nothing left to attach head to body.

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As if from nowhere, Miraak broke from the shadows of the forest, stepping in time with Nemesis, his stride restrained to give her the lead. He does not remember Dakarai, but whether or not he was a presence in Miraak's memories made little difference. No, Dakarai was simply another name on the list of traitors that Miraak had to be vigilant for (and there were quite a few), and now he was of a privileged few, the foolish few: those who came back.

As Nemesis confronts the prodigal traitor, Miraak stares at the woman Dakarai brought with him. He clicks his tongue in amazement; how idiotic, the shade notes. She clearly was powerless even against one wolf, let alone the pack. If this was Dakarai's form of "back up", he deserved everything that Nemesis would deal out to him.

He does not have to wait long before Nemesis lunges at Dakarai, aiming for the kill. Miraak joins, but not before he turns to the woman, the wife, snarling. If you leave now, you will live to remember him, He warns before lunging at Dakarai's hind legs, attempting to grab the man's tendons and make escape hard, if not impossible.

* whistles and shoves Olive back in*

The world became a blur of dark fur and sharp noises. How many times would she had to see her husband this way, with hooves coming down upon his skull or hellhound ripping at his very being?! Once was too many. Twice was too many.  No. No. No. That was not how it happened. This was not how THIS ends. For the most part Olive conceded herself and her future to the whims of the universe [rollin’ with the punches, her father had called it], but this outcome would not do and the frenzied woman deigned to fight it tooth and nail.

There was one, no two— three! four! Four wolves launching themselves upon her dark night. In this moment there was only movement, but the in next moment there would be blood spilled; so Olive had to move fast. Adrenaline trilled through her veins as she launched herself at the amassment of struggling, gnashing wolves. She aimed herself so that her body might block any imminent attack to Dakarai’s exposed throat and then proceeded to throw her small body about, jerking and thrashing, snarling and snapping at anything, everything, acting as if she was crazed woman fighting an invisible demon! Her intention was not to harm [for the druid never could], but to cause enough confusion to give Dakarai a second to recoup and rally, to give him but half a moment to decide their next move - whether is was to fight, submit or flee. She was his ally in this an all things, including this, and would not leave him.

Dakarai attempted to drive his skull into his own; something which the boy avoided with a backwards jolt as soon as the limb beneath him moved upward. the limb slipped from betwixt his jaws, but a moment later, he searched for another opening through which to attack. but no matter, for quite suddenly the boy was no longer alone. for they came then, the wraiths of the wood, killers and warriors and mercenaries, every single one. there came the nightmare's wraith that was his mother, the hellhound that was Atshen, and the purple-eyed warrior that was Miraak. 

And still the boy did not pause, even as they swiftly fell into battle around him. Even the woman joined the fray, perhaps desperate, now. he sprung, fangs agape and cool gaze burning as he dove toward the woman, jaws seeking to drive into her flesh and rip, and tear. the presence of the other's emboldened him, and he knew that they would meet the same fate as the many dozens more trespassers that had faded, crumbled under his mother's fangs.

During the day, Atshen often found himself in the shadow of his mother, following dutifully where she went. It was on this particular day that Atshen did just that and the two wolves weaved through the tangle of their woods. It was in the midst of their patrolling that snarls broke out suddenly from the border. Instantly, Atshen recognized one of the snarls to be from his brother. Following after the blue-eyed alpha, Atshen changed direction as the two headed for the borders. Soon enough, as they broke onto the scene, Miraak appeared, as if he had been formed from the shadows. 

Though he was not concerned with the Apprentice's wellbeing, it seemed as though his brother needed help and he would be of assistance where needed-- in particular with the concerns of their border. Even if he didn't care for his ice-eyed sibling, he knew that he had to save him. After all, how would Atshen be able to kill Abraxas if he were pronounced dead on this scene? The Silencer would do his best to keep him sibling alive so that he could kill him another day. 


Remaining as silent as ever, Atshen fell to Nemesis' side as she spoke, his tail lifting instinctively over his back as he listened. A low growl bubbled in his throat as if harmonizing with the threats that were offered. As Nemesis launched the attack, Atshen followed, adding his body into the tangle of fighting wolves. Seeing so many wolves, Atshen swept low at Miraak's side aiming to grab Dakarai's tail.

i was told it is my post. Someone suggested rounds, and though im not quite totally sure how that works i suppose my post now will begin the first round. Me and Olive had an idea that Dakarai would submit and beg BFW to inflict the punishment on him and leave Olive alone since she merely trespassed, does anyone have an issue with that? Im not trying to be controlling, and i didnt realize i PP'd its just that me and olive though that there was a laid out plot between me,Abraxas,Nemesis, and Olive which was ruined when Olive went ovr the borders (i didnt think about that changed the whole thing XD). Im sorry if i offended anyone, i wasnt trying to be difficult or avoid punshment for Dak.

Dakarai's breath caught as Nemesis and another showed up, threatening him and his wife. His instincts still said fight, fight or his children and his wife, for his pride and his hatred for these incredibly cruel wolves. Yet as even more wolves showed up he felt his resolve crumbling and he crouched down squitning his eyes shut and curling his tail beneath his limbs. Vivid blue eyes looked up toward Nemesis as he cowered beneath her and he spoke "I am ready to take my punishment, just please leave Olive alo-" his words were cut off as Nemesis launched herself at him, her jaws snapping at his throat. Dakarai stumbled backward, though the woman's fangs still slashed a nasty gash from the side of his throat to his shoulder. He yelped and stumbled backward into one of the male's feeling fangs slash at him from behind as well.


With a shriek he rolled onto his belly and shouted "I submit! I take my punishment!" his voice roared desperately as he squinted his eyes shut, knowing that if they attacked him in this position he was finished. Locating Nemesis with panicked eyes he found her and whimpered "Do what you wish with me, just please leave Olive alone. She only trespassed she had no ill intentions to your brotherhood!" he pleaded with the woman.

There was some garbled plea from the male before Nemesis lunged. Olive, he had said. Something about olives. In the heat of the battle, though he did well to keep himself composed, he had to admit that the details slipped from him, fueled by anger as he was. His fangs drew blood from the male's legs, cutting into the meat of his thigh, only to feel the slam of another body. Indigo eyes raised from where he was intent to stay and hold, locking on the woman who had not heeded his warning and thrown herself into the fray. 

Miraak snarled at the insolence, the incompetence. She was not even landing any blows; only feinting. He was quick to let go of Dakarai and put an end to this nuisance, his fangs intent on grabbing her by the scruff like the child she was and pinning her down, outside of the fray.

All injuries on Olive were pre-discussed and given approval :)

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The brotherhood heeded it's call, and in little time were the tresspassers up Dakarai's voice screeching for a mercy he would not be granted, did not weigh upon her soul in the slightest, for an unwarranted mercy was not something she would care to oblige. Instead, her wrath, simmering beneath the surface of her own skin, awaited it's call. It did not need to wait long.

Perhaps it would have been best that Dakarai kept his mouth shut, for every word that slipped out his traitorus mouth, he managed to change her mind. She wanted to bring him pain, but she did not want him nor his kin within her land ever again. She only tresspassed. They all only tresspassed. The heads on her borders only tresspassed. Nemesis would not be the first to save the air-head of a wife to a man who abandoned their very pack only to return and attempt to kill her son.

"No,"

Came her quaint reply, looking down upon the excuse of a man cowering at the feet of a boy much younger than him and with nothing but sheer disgust did she feel; revolt crept along her spine in the face of true and utter failure, and even more so for the fact that the degenerate she faced had once walked within her own home. On the contrary, however, the woman wanted nothing to do with the man, but the value of his pain meant everything, and pain she would indirectly give. Pain upon the physical being of his body would heal, but pain upon the image of his beloved would never cease to pain; and with a chilling upturn of a smile did she turn in a breif moment, the force of a thousand curses within her paw as she swept around, her claws landing sinking deep into the flesh of the pregnant woman. Dakarai would know his failure, and the woman would never forget her own idiocity. It was a price to pay, and rightfully given. Perhaps her smile was too wide as her claws dragged along the maw of the defenseless woman, permenately disfiguring the beauty of Dakarai's wife. But ultimately, the act did not bring her a shred of joy, it was her job.

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not totally sure that it's my post, but it felt right :)

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Time sped up a thousand times when she entered the melee and Olive found herself dizzied and dazzled by the quickness of it at; she simply flailed about ineffectively, attempting to cause as much disruption to their strategy as possible, but there was no rhyme nor reason behind her frenetic movements and she felt so ineffective and slow, as if thrashing in molasses, while the brawl continued on freely around her. Her vision blurred except to view flashes of fangs around her being and she yelped from desperation and fright, throwing her body to and fro, bucking up and kicking her legs out, in a dramatic and animalistic fashion —but then there was an impact that knocked the breath from her lungs and she felt an otherworldly type of pain sear into her shoulder. Olive whipped her head, eyes wild, to glimpse at the small boy who had twisted and brutalized her ankle just moments before — now latched onto the shoulder, her thin pale pelt and delicate skin rolling in his jaws. She immediately felt wetness as her blood was brought forth by his driving fangs and she railed against such pain, pulling away from him spasmodically, attempting to wrench her shoulder from his strong springtrap jaws. 

But then Dakarai’s voice — small, begging, desperate — gave her pause and the waif ceased her thrashing movements. Olive paused with her tender shoulder still clamped in the jaws. The wastrel watched in horror as her dark knight forfeited himself, exposing his most vulnerable areas, to the jaws of their leader. The hellish sight disturbed her yet she could not look away from the sight of her husband [the father of her children] surrendering himself for her sake. their sakes. Dakarai had always claimed that her would do everything in his power to keep her safe, to let his ingenue lover experience life at her leisure, all the while under his protection and watchful eye — and Olive had never wished to test that fact, but he had not failed her or and upheld the promise passed from husband to wife. She had never loved him more.

So enraptured with the scene was she, that the shrouded druid felt nothing, heard nothing, though nothing — and, of course, saw nothing of the wolf who lunged at her neck. The woman was pinned easily, as she provided very little resistance to the brutalization her body received. The mother-to-be was bulldozed to the ground and she folded underneath his fangs like a most macabre ragdoll; Miraak’s large jaws grated her face against the ground and his jaws felt powerful on her neck. Olive, utterly defeated and forlorn, gave up any and all fight she had in her body, feeling the entirety of her body triturate against the dank forest floor. Her sweet breath came in rapid, shallow puffs — it was all the air she was able to move underneath the pressure of his hold. 

Amongst the dirt and the tears and anguish that clouded her vision, Olive was forced to watch as the dark women move closer, and closer, and closer. The pallid dove’s breath was driven from her chest and she gasped for it, but her eau-de-nil gaze fell emptily upon the shewolf, brimming with utter and complete defeat. Olive knew there to be a divine, feminine connection was shared amongst all women — the stars had told her it was so — but as Olive felt the hot daggers rake down the side of her face and across her muzzle, the druid felt no connection to her female assailant. no divinity. no collective consciousness. Right then there was nothing but evil and Olive was scared of it. Olive could make no noise nor commit herself to a reaction— for the strength of the man’s jaws was great and breath continued to escape her. Please, she prayed desperately, Let it end.

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PP granted by @Olive!

With Atshen's attacks on the intruders missing, the ember-eyed male retreated to his mother's side, his eyes burning as he looked to those who had almost crossed the blood-stained boundaries of the forest. Had they gone any further, and Atshen been more successful in landing blows amongst the mass of wrestling wolves, he would have made sure that their blood was added to the vivid tapestry of their enemies remains. 

There was almost a standstill as the wolves of the forest faced those of the Family, and Atshen looked to them with a sneer as they waved the white flags of their surrender. Despite their pleas and despite the sacrifices that were offered, Atshen wanted nothing more than to end both of their lives then and there. But he didn't. Instead, he looked to Mother, waiting for her perspective on the matter. 

A wicked grin tugged at his dark lips as the Dark Master pulled forward to attack the other woman. Taking this as an indication of what he should be doing, Atshen wordlessly pulled himself alongside Nemesis, falling quickly into her shadow. As she aimed high, he went low, reaching for the woman's forelegs as Nemesis did the dirty work of stricking at Olive's face.

The pair went to work until Olive pulled herself from the tangle. Realizing that there was nothing left to attack, Atshen fell to his mother's side again, catching sight of the other woman's retreating form once he had settled. The confrontation seemed to be over and as such, Atshen quickly lost interest. Instead, he kept his eyes to his mother, waiting for her command and soon enough, once the dark stranger had left, the pack returned to their woods.