The Sentinels moving in reverse with no way out

she was afraid-- afraid of where her feet would take her. she knew where they would go, she didn't want to follow, and yet-- she could not stop moving forward.

the pads of her feet had been cracked for months now, the cruel mountain terrain unkind to her poor, soft paws. but it did not hinder her travel, she continued forward. it was not until she was there that she stopped moving, and it was not a gentle stop, mind you. her feet froze abruptly, and all in one moment she felt the wind sucked from her breast. donnelaith was no longer donnelaith-- but a pile of ashes. she'd managed to make it into the once sentential forest before the realization hit her, but when it did it hit her all too hard. her vision blurred, mind whirled, heart stopped. it was too much.

eventually, her senses returned, but with it came something else. it was not a good thing, but perhaps not all that bad. she buckled to the ground and buried her nose beneath her feet. she took in a shaky breath, released one loud sob, before she broke beneath the weight of it all. the once queen remained-- harboring a tearless weep-- in the remains of her former kingdom, her former throne.

Hope you don't mind me! Indie's fascinated by the ruins of the forest so I couldn't pass it up

Indie was a vociferous soul; a paradox cloaked in black silk. She had an affinity for contention and contest, the odd and the ornate. It was what drew her to the siren ladies of the coast, drove her to the ocean to cultivate her [now strong] sea legs, 

It was also was drew her back to the ever-smoldering remains of that forest, the one that once stood proud high upon the cliffs [Indie had never seem the coppice in its prime, but she was certain of its previous grandeur]. The memory of her visits to the boneyard to the never truly left Indie... though the stories and legends of their sea god did captivate her endlessly, she always found herself going back to thoughts of fire.  Flames, infernos... they took everything and left nothing, without asking for permission or offering an apology. It was the way she wished to live, free and footloose. Fire enticed her, energized her, seasoned her mind with a certain zest for life; whereas water was calmer, centered, balanced. 

Indie much preferred the former. 

On one of her many excursions from the confinement of the islands led her down the coast, past the bluffs and past the river, across the fecund shores where the pinnipeds multiplied, to the place where the earth ran hot. The vaudevillian had not visited the forest since the spring season began and she wasn't sure what to expect. Would the ground have spring back to life, or had the trees unfurled new growth -- like the rest of the landscape had? The sight of the blackened earth and the smell of aged ash told her the answer was, indeed, no. But where she didn't find fresh spring shoots, Indie found something much more satiating: a lovely stranger. 

Unlike her own ebon form, the pale women stood out from the dark uniformity. It was impossible to remaining oblivious to the melancholy arising from the shewolf, who lamented without restraint. Indie  padded loudly in her direction, purposefully shuffling her feet as to not startle her. When she was nearer, she intoned softly "Much has been lost here," stating the obvious, but hoping it resonated.

of course not!!! i've wanted a rachel thread for so so long <3

now a creature of pure anxiety, aria felt fear everywhere she went. every move she made could end poorly, and every wolf she met could end in disaster. her paranoia ruled her life, and she knew it. but now, in the once jewel that was donnelaith, she felt less afraid. perhaps that was why she did not immediately bolt when she heard the ruffling of ash. although, perhaps, she was just ready for something to take her away--  perhaps one final disaster could just end all this suffering for good. who knows.

she raised her head, chin and chest dusted with the black ash from the forest floor. it almost suited her, like the darkness that was swallowing her soul had begun to corrupt her physical form-- but ash was so much easier to wash away. the stranger spoke, and aria was almost memorized. she had that effect on wolves-- once upon a time-- though she couldn't say she'd seen anyone so entranced with her as she was with this woman. silently she watched the inky woman, unsure of her intentions and of what to say. after a few dragging moments, she dipped her muzzle slightly. "do you know the story?" 

You get #100! :D <3 

The vaudevillian let her strong gaze soften as the shewolf gently received here — suddenly, Indie felt quite intrusive. It was clear, from the woman’s sadness and shakiness of breath, that these cinders were chantry for many [not just she] and it was something she intimately respected. Indie close to this cairn because she visited it often, but easily she understood that where she saw life, others saw death. 

So, the veiled woman loosened her shoulders, softened her facial features and found a more gentle carriage.

”I don’t,” she answered in a low, sooty timbre. A curious energy arose from the woman who seemed her opposite in every way; she was light where Indie was dark, solemn where Indie was dogmatic. Where Indie usually felt particularly insightful, she now found she could decipher nothing — but her achromatic cohort left the door wide open for her to learn more. ”But I have my theories.”

!! <3

slowly, with an inhale that was both long and shaky, aria rose to a sitting position. her fur was still stained by the black earth, but she made no effort to brush it off-- not yet. her gaze fell, falling forward a few feet as her eyebrows furrowed in thought. "the sentinels once belonged to a man named taltos, and then to his right hand, and then-- rightfully-- to taltos' daughter... they called the land donnelaith," she began, slowly. though aria was long past her days of useless rambles, she somehow felt it was appropriate to tell the story. they were here, among the debre and death, and now that she had someone to listen, she wanted to pass her memories of the place on.

with another deep breath, she brought her gaze to the stranger-- resting it there. "donnelaith took it's final rest to a lightening storm in the middle of our coldest winter." her gaze narrowed, "and as did it's wolves."

The sylph rose on willowed limbs and Indie’s eye trailed downwards, over the woman’s coal covered chest to her dusted stomach, then back up again; but soon her attention was captured by a story, enraptured with the woman’s words. It was hard to believe what was happening — it was the story of the forest! It was something Indie had given up hope on ever knowing, figuring all those knew of it had perished in the inferno. But here it was, manifested in the who pale one who sat her opposite.

Donnelaith, was it? The vaudevillian could not help but taste the words on her quicksilver tongue. ”Donnelaith,” she drawled in a smokey pitch, eyes flashing. The word was thick, like honey, and was almost sweeter than the appellation Nereides. There was a man names Taltos, a daughter, someone else… but this was not nearly enough detail to satiate her voracious curiosity! The vaudevillian wondered about the relationships and culture of these woods, of who resided in the words — not their names! She wanted pretty words to describe all those twists and moments that made this world unique. Perhaps this was too much to ask of her companion — who was she to assume that the stranger held every answer? Perhaps Indie had been given an inch, and she wanted to take a mile. It wouldn't have been the first time.

Before she pried too much, there was one thing she had to know. ”What’s your relation?” she asked, head bobbing to one side and inkfeathered ears tipping just the same.

"donnelaith," aria repeated once more, slowly and breathier. it was not one she'd struggled to say-- she'd said it plenty of times since her move to moonspear, but being here made the word feel so eerie. the strangers question begged to be answered. it was traced on her lips with such a hunger that the pale sylph could not simply ignore it, but she could not find the courage right away to continue speaking. the story needed to be told-- she needed to tell it, but she found that a pause helped. it helped her to regain some sanity, some composure, and gave the story-- though not on purpose-- just a bit more of a dramatic edge.

finally, her inky nose dipped slightly, and she replied; "i was taltos' right hand, his succeeder." i was the forest's princess, and then it's queen. her gaze rose, white, reflective oceans, to once again view the eclipsed wolf that sat before her. though, she didn't wait for a proper response before she continued. "i had dreams for the forest, it was my my home, after all-- but i was not it's crowned jewel," she said, tail shifting through the earth to wrap around her ash dusted limbs. "donnelaith was founded by taltos-- a member of the mayfair clan, and the mayfair's took the physical form of the forest itself."

The femme couldn't help but feel her mouth salivate as the pale woman divulged the posthumous story of the forest that lay in ashes beneath their feet; her story. It was better than she had expected, and spoken quite poetically. Indie found herself drawn to the story, to the white woman beside her, even though the story arc was one she had experienced time and time again in the lyrics and lines of the stories she preformed. A land — once grand — now defeated by an unsuspected enemy. The beauty of it all, of every story that boasted the same framework, was in the subtle details: the names of the characters and their individual characteristics, the setting and scene, the emotions it inspired in its performers as well as its audience. 

It was captivating.

In addition, Indie couldn’t help but appreciate the novelty of being handed an answer that she so eagerly sought from the silent remains of the once grand forest, nurtured and commanded by the coastal airs. But once again, Indie saw that where she was enthused, her cohort found extreme sadness. The vaudevillian kept her facial features composed, demure, and arranged herself into a receptive posture that post of empathy — and it wasn’t feigned.

”And now, they are gone.” Indie concluded. Indie hadn’t known the story, hadn’t yet heard its ending, but the evidence was all around them. Her molten gaze met Aria’s own. ”But you have survived.” It was spoken as a statement, but its purpose was that on an inquiry. With that statement, perhaps the woman would expand upon her own experience of the forest — how she, the last vestige of a pack lost, came to sit here in the soot and the ash with her. But first…

”Does Taltos’ right hand have a name?”

"gone," she concluded.

but... her surviving-- she snorted at the comment. she survived. it was because she had left, left when her pride was damaged and when her home began to feel like a prison. deirdre had taken over, and she could only assume that donnelaith was happier without her. but she didn't not survive the flames, she merely avoided their wrath.

her pale gaze shifted to the stranger. "do you?" she asked, brow quirking slightly. it seemed her own solemn mood began to ebb away-- though only slightly-- as her shoulders straightened when she introduced herself. "aria," she said with a small sniff, "from the january family." she had always hoped she could introduced herself as 'from the mayfair family' but, well, it seemed like it just wasn't meant to be. she wouldn't dive into that-- it was not donnelaith's story.

"the fire killed donnelaith, but it did not destroy the mayfair clan," she then clarified, mostly in response to the women's 'gone' comment, "taltos died long before the fire, by a heat stroke in the middle of summer." the mayfairs were gone, sure, but they had not all died to the fire-- she wanted to make that clear. it was only deirdre's life that was stolen from the fire. the story of constantine and casmir lingered on her tongue, and it pressed against the roof of her mouth as her soul begged to set it free-- but she swallowed it. "taltos' youngest two were the last remaining mayfair's in donnelaith. i can only assume the fire stole them from the redwoods."

The shewolf introduced herself as aria — as a singer, Indie was familiar with the term and could think of no more appropriate moniker for the wisp of a woman. Indie smiled bewitchingly and dipped her muzzle, head, neck and chest in greeting; it was as pro forma as the con woman dare stray, but the gesture had that extra flair that drew Indie to it. “Indie,” the chanteuse chimed at the arc of her bow, allowed her tail to sway once, twice, and then she gathered herself and sat to hear the rest of Aria’s tale.

Indie let out an exasperated huff and glanced despondently at their charred milieu. “Aye, such a sad tale for such a beautiful land.” There was beauty in the ashes, but as Aria painted a picture Indie could almost see the redwoods sprout right before her eyes, growing up and up until the treetops were hidden from her sight. Smaller plants crowded the rare windows of light, reaching out to it, hoping to grasp they rays for its very own. Between the trees was a family — the mayfairs — running about and doing their duties. At the sight, Indie nodded her head approvingly.  The vaudevillian refocused her attention on the woman to her side. “and for a beautiful lady,” Indie tactfully concluded.

“Who were the Mayfairs? What were they like?” Indie spoke, giving Aria an out.

indie... it seemed fitting. though, she knew nothing of music or performance, and so neither indie nor her own name signaled any sort of meaning. they were merely names, and indie seemed to fit the inky woman before her. aria returned the fae's dramatic bow with a gentle dip of her head, for she had no reason to add such a flare to any of her actions. the other woman then sat, and aria waited patiently for her to situate before she did continued.

it had been moons since anyone had called her beautiful. the last to do it was deirdre, and then lasher, and then casmir-- and before that a good number. but since deirdre's reign especially she had grown disheveled and wary, and she herself had hardly thought of herself as so. her gaze trailed to her shoulder, scarred from ferahgo, and she viewed it silently before she made any further comment. she didn't respond about the forest or herself, however, she spoke only about the mayfairs.

"witches," she shared, giving a small roll of her shoulders, "taltos' youngest, especially, deirdre and emaleth. but the family was a clan of witches as far back in the generations as i'd heard of." for a few moments, she paused to see indie's response before slowly tacking on, "they had a way with magicks that i never understood... but there was only one time that i truly felt the magic myself." she let herself stop, waiting if the other had any questions. and, in truth, it seemed that indie had a flare for the dramatic, and aria could deliver that with a few purposeful pauses.

  Witches!

It was what the starlet considered the sirens – sea witches, able to talk to the ocean through ritual and an inborn connection with the infinite waters. It was magick that Indie had never had been privy to, but wished to manifest dearly; the ravenhaired woman had not been been long for religion and knew nothing of the gods, so Akantha and Kalika and Salish’s ability to glean the sea’s teachings was nothing short of spectacular. And, to be honest, the wonderous and exotic nature of it all was what had kept Indie tied to the group of Amazonians in the first place – though Indie had never been dishonest or withholding of this information.

It seemed that these Mayfairs were the forested counterparts of the Nereides woman. Perhaps Indie would have had better luck worshipping the timbers – but as Indie swept her head to gaze at the charred skeletal trees once more, the woman recognized herself more as a priestess of the ashes. “Oh, you must tell me!” Indie exclaimed at the dramatic mention of an unknown magical experience, given an artful pause for a dramatic effect [as if the alabaster soul knew this would engross and delight her entirely]. Aria seemed to be in higher spirits – though, not by much — so Indie felt her justified in laying bare in interest.
 

aria smiled softly, a bittersweet smile. "when taltos passed, and where his daughters buried him a fairy circle grew," she shared, ears flicking a gentle notch lower. "it was there until the day i left. i did not bother seeing if it is still," she added, noting the ash and debre once more. surely, even magic could not keep the circle alive through such a fire. deep inside, she'd like to believe that it remained, which is why she did not return. perhaps, if she just never saw it again, the magic would live on-- somehow.

"do you live nearby?" she suddenly asked, glancing to indie. though aria was not quite sure indie would warrant as a friend, it was nice to talk to someone so polite and interested. she was on the hunt for floki, for constantine-- perhaps even casmir, she could not be slowed. but, perhaps, it would be nice to have somewhere to settle one day.

The starter listened with bated breath to Aria’s story of conjuring and fairies and circles — but Indie was left confused, unsure of what exactly a fairy circle was. Indie melted into her imagination once more and her thoughts were clouded with colors of pinks and blues and others that she had learned to associate with fairies. Indie had combed these woods many, many times and found no such circle — but if it had to do with magick, then it must be something truly beautiful and Indie sudden found that she craved it. Indie knitted her eyebrows together and ticked her head to the side as if it say what is that?, gave aria the room to explain if she pleased, and then the conversation moved on.

”I do,” Indie corroborated gladly. She had nothing to hide from Aria, not after Aria had been so transparent with her.  ”This… forest, she wasn’t exactly sure what to call it. It surely wasn’t a forest anymore, but the place wasn’t entirely dead. Soon new life would spring from the ashes, much like the pheonix of a similar magical legend. ”It was the first place I came upon when I found the coast. I found that I couldn’t leave it.” Her tone held a sense of gravity, as she understood that Aria’s blood ran deep in this forest — but she didn’t want to downplay the significance role it cast in Indie’s own life. ”Our clan is just over there, on those islands.” Indie said this and gave a toss of her chin in the direction of the blackwater isles, as if they were visible to the naked eye — but, alas, they were not. 

”You… do not live nearby?” Indie asserted with a inquisitive tilt of her head. Indie had realized early in their conversation that she had come upon a reunion of sorts. Plus, by then, Indie had become quite familiar with the wolves of the coast and this was one she had not recognized.

 

aria smiled, just a little more. "it sounds made-up, i didn't believe it until i saw it. it's a ring of mushrooms, red and white and perfectly placed around... the mayfair children said it was planted by fairies-- a magick," she replied, slowly beginning to rise up. maybe it was childish to believe in the magicks, but aria liked to believe it in. deirdre always made it seem so real, and anything that reminded her of taltos was welcome. she did not feel his presence here anymore-- or anywhere, for that matter, but the memory of magicks made it feel like he was right beside her once again.

"i wish you could've seen it in it's prime," she replied with a weakened grin and a splay of her ears. the forest was gorgeous in it's prime, the redwoods were absolutely magnificent. but, maybe to someone else there was a hidden beauty in the ashy graveyard-- aria could not quite relate to that.

the islands immediately made her shrink. she could not see them, but she's only ever seen the island that the pirates lived at-- surely that was the one she was talking about. but, it couldn't possibly be the same one. this woman was so kind, there was nothing rough about her. she did not want to maim or capture, merely learn. it eased her nerves, which had pounded through her blood and brought a heat to her face that she couldn't cool. her mind spun as she tried to calm herself.

"i have no home-- i left donnelaith moons ago, and now i wander," she shared when she'd found breath. she didn't know where she'd go, but she'd get there someday.

Indie nodded in appreciation, shifting her shoulders in a gentle shimmy to denote her. Little did the vaudevillian know, but all too soon she would be in a similar situation — left by those who she had come to value, with no other option but to wander and find her next enterprise. Love and trust did not come to Indie as it did to other wolves; and it was not the Nereids’ betrayal of such that would prompt the woman’s future discomfort, no! Vagabondage was a position of powerlessness, and Indie hated powerlessness.

But Aria needn’t know that. No, Indie would soothe the ragged shelf and listen to all she would share. The conversation had proved productive already — and Indie was rather drawn to the woman, who’s entire mien spoke of gentleness. “Wandering soothes the soul and nourishes the mind,” the mummer suggested deftly, as if she had the background of a lifelong loner — albeit, she never had that experience. Without a thought as to her next statement’s validity, she continued with confidence.“You will soon find what to seek, even if you know naught what you look for.” Indie looked at Aria questioningly, as if to say do you agree?

indie's comments were soothing. every other words of wisdom that had been forced upon her had felt forced, insincere, like they were just trying to get past the topic and move on. like she should move on. but indie listened, and spoke only when she needed to. her response to 'you'll find what you were looking for' were not casual and easily shrugged off, at least, not to aria. she stared, round gaze finding that of indie's and nodded. she did agree. she would find something-- maybe someone. she would be okay.

she stood, slowly, and stepped forward. "i must go, my journey will be long-- i might as well get stared," she said with a smile, tail wagging slowly at her hocks. "i wish you a good life, indie," she added with a flick of her ears, "may the spirit of donnelaith guide you." she gave the area-- and her newfound acquaintance-- one last look before setting off, ash falling from her pelt and tail as she traveled. as she moved, she repeated, over and over again, you will be okay. and she truly believed it.