Blackfeather Woods I'm sitting in a railway station, got a ticket for a destination

She had left the Glen, permanently. The three wolves she had borne were protected and raised by the rest of the pack, their elder siblings taking turns feeding them, and others coming to visit. Potema had no more reason to simply sit there and watch them grow. She didn't have the poppy to tide her through it anymore.

She returned to her former den, one that she had seemingly abandoned long ago, @Kjalarr in tow. She had said nothing to her children of either litter where she had gone. They could find her. She wasn't far.

Kjalarr follows after Potema, unable to help the admiring sweep of his eye on occasion as they make their way through the Woods. He moves with unbridled caution though: a stiffness to his actions that anticipates attack at any given moment. Did Potema still have the jurisdiction to decide his fate and take him back in as her prisoner? The absence of the girl that had called herself Dark Master during his first time in these Woods did not slip unnoticed by Kjalarr who ( though again he has no right to judge anyone and he knows this ) sees this as poor leadership. Perhaps she wasn’t even Dark Master anymore, he thinks.

Even as Potema treated him no leader appeared and his howl had been a summons for leadership and not just Potema. Not that he was disappointed that only Potema had showed ( on the contrary ) …and it occurs to him suddenly that perhaps Potema has taken up the mantle. She had no corrected him when he’d called her High Priestess but there’s much that Kjalarr simply doesn’t know about Blackfeather Woods and for all he knows High Priestess might be her official title across the board: Alpha or not. “Do you assume the mantle of …what is it called…Dark Master now?” The prisoner inquires with a slight tilt of his head as he focuses upon her out of his partially blind eye: watching as her wisp form writhes and dances just out of his reach. It’s been a few months since he’s been here last, after all and he knows from personal experience that it does not take long for a pack to have an upheaval of leadership. He's not even sure if he's meant to know the answer to that and he is ready to backtrack if he's stepped out of line. He's never been a prisoner before and admittedly isn't sure what is ok and what is taking too much liberty. Still, even prisoners should know who their leaders are, after all, he thinks.

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Her mind is racked constantly by both her memory and her, often debilitating, headaches. It had been a good year since she had lived within her den. Spiderlings' Glen had been her home for the better part of her adult life. It would be too difficult to dig another this late in autumn. She searches, brow furrow in as she scours her mind's map once more. No, She answers the question Kjalarr poses to her, almost absent minded in her response.

Potema appears to be lost in thought to him and when she answers his inquiry her response is absent minded enough to confirm his suspicions. Still, he assumes that if she minds his questions — borne out of his desire to both understand her that has remained such a haunting enigma to him and to sate his own curiosity — that she would have snapped at him long ago for them. “Why?” Kjalarr asks, words barely more than a low rumble of a purl as they leave his lips. The fur of his withers bristles for a second as a contemplative frown tugs at his lips. Perhaps, he considers, she’s simply content where she is. Perhaps she does not want to hold the title of Dark Master. Then again, Kjalarr’s always had high ambitions and has found that thus far they’ve gotten him nothing but trouble in his life ( or maybe it’s the circumstances in which he goes about accomplishing them ). The truth was her rank mattered little: what was most important to him was that they were together. Maybe not in the way he’d entirely like for them to be together but still. For the moment it’s all he’s going to get so it’s good enough for him.

Kjalarr takes a moment to reflect upon things, thinking that he’d have had much more of an issue with being a captive than he admittedly does. Maybe it’s less about the circumstance and more about who his captor is. If it were anyone else other than Potema he knows he would never have been so willing: they would’ve had to kill him before he allowed himself to become enslaved. But it’s not anyone else; it’s Potema and …he’s happy. It’s probably twisted and highly unorthodox but it doesn’t change the feeling that he distinctly knows to be happiness warming his chest. “What do you seek, High Priestess?” He asks her next, noting the furrow of her brow.

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She had not told him much about the pack. She was always afraid of telling those men she had grown to love — for fear of chasing them away with the blackness of her pack's collective souls, of her soul. But Kjalarr had come willingly, not once, but twice. She had nothing to hide from him at this point, especially not if he was to keep following him around. That is my brother's title, Brother. What did that word even mean to her anymore? Her brothers were only her brothers in blood. She had known that long ago, but had not realized it until now. In his place is his future mate Astrid. Though, if she continues her absence, I'm sure Vaati will take control, The words are said matteroffactly, but the expression in her eye is tight, hating and fearing for the future ahead of them all.

A memory suddenly came to her, followed by another stinging headache. She winces at it this time, a low hiss sliding out from between her teeth. Her muscles seize as if in a spasm, but are locked there for a long moment. In her brief paralysis she feels her stomach swell, but the vomiting does not come. When it is over, she returns to normalcy slowly, her muscles relaxing with each throb of her descending heartbeat. Qogralbar...

Potema explains that the title belongs to her brother …as if that means that no one else can hold it. As if it’s meant to pass to him and no one else, with the exception of his future mate. Kjalarr instinctively flinches away from that word — he knows better than most that, that word can be just an empty of a promise as any other. He supposes it could mean everything but he also knows that it can mean nothing at all: a place holder to assuage guilt for wrong doing. He lets out a low snort when Potema speaks up that Vaati will take it if Astrid’s absence continues but the sound is devoid of amusement. He does not take Vaati coveting a rank that he is far too young, too brash, too hot-headed and inexperienced to hold lightly (these things Kjalarr puts to his son due to how he was as a youth and from what little Potema has told him). “A child should not be leading a pack.” He states flatly. Especially a child that is too much like how he was ( but worse in his own way ). He is about to speak, to rattle off the reasons why he thinks Vaati taking control is an awful idea ( besides the fact that he most definitely didn’t want to live beneath the rule of a child ) when he notices Potema’s hiss and watches as her muscles spasm as she stills.

Kjalarr’s words die in his mouth and his heart nearly stops as he looks to her: a stilled wisp in one milky eye and solid and lupine in his other. “Potema?” Kjalarr moves closer to her, licking her chin, her cheek and then the bone above her eye, trying to rouse her from …whatever had seized her. “Potema.” He croons her name wishing he knew what was happening and what he was meant to do. Her muscles unclench and he does not pull back but instead lingers at her side. “…Potema?” There’s a million unasked questions in her name as it leaves his lips full of unbidden concern and worry ( the word she speaks does not go unnoticed by him but as he does not understand it he brushes it aside in favor of more pressing concerns ). He forgets, wrapped up in those things, that he should probably address her by title because he has to forcibly remind himself that he’s her captive. Yet, none of these things absolve the worry that insistently lingers demanding reassurance that she’s ok.

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She never understood Astrid's loyalty to Damien. Perhaps it was because she had never been bonded to a man for her whole life, told time and time again that he would be the one she would mate with one day. It had never sat well with her, for how would either of them know who they would grow to become? They didn't, and now Damien was a babbling mess in the Web, and Astrid gone. 

Potema nods in agreement. We have no one else who is capable — or willing — to do so, She never wanted that kind of authority. It was too variable, too stressing. She had remained with her same authority with no conflict to her position. 

She feels every movement Kjalarr makes, but she cannot respond. He repeats her name, and it is echoes in her head, bouncing against every part of her skull. But she does not move. When her body pulsates once more, and she is able to move, the first thing she does is vomit. It is sudden, quick, right after her whispered curse. She heaves, her stomach searching for more things to expel from her body. But it finds none. After long, passing moments, it breaks, and she surfaces from her brief mental departure, her vision spinning.

Kjalarr cannot help but feel that he’s missed something vital and his frustration at the fact is palpable. He wouldn’t want to follow his own lead, let alone the lead of his son. There is just something that it extremely off putting about it ( perhaps it’s simply that his testosterone rages and regardless of how much he tries to change his core makeup never will ). Potema has appeared to accept Vaati’s claim for what it is and Kjalarr risks her wrath with the incredulous noise he makes. He knows he is a captive and he knows he has no choice in the matter but he doesn’t accept it because it directly affects him too. “Potema,” It is ( too much so ) easy for Kjalarr to assume the role of protesting husband father because he’s seen where this path will lead in his own life, at his own paws. “So you will stand aside and let a child that should not be left anywhere near any kind of leadership position claim command of a pack when all he does is make mistake after mistake that, in your own words, bring Blackfeather closer to ruin?” Perhaps Vaati will surprise him but Kjalarr has very singular and very strong doubts about it. “You truly trust him not to get this sect entirely slaughtered by the enemies I assume he’s made in your name?” Kjalarr’s ears flatten against his skull. “If he is truly anything like me I know how this will end, Potema and it will not be with Blackfeather as the victors.” Arrogance is a familiar mistress of Kjalarr’s and it appears that his son is overly familiar with her as well. Kjalarr knows that arrogance only brings with her one ending and it’s never good for anyone involved.

His protest is forgotten about as she seizes ( well he thinks that’s what is happening but he’s not really sure ). His concern for her is overwhelming and crushes everything else. His vocal concerns about Vaati are insignificant as Potema has her episode. She vomits the contents of her stomach, splashing his paws and sandy stockings in her sick but Kjalarr is unconcerned about that. It will wash off. He presses his nose to her cheek, lips skimming the velveteen cusp of her ear as he presses his body against her’s to offer his bulk as something to lean on should she need the aid. He isn’t sure what he should do, isn’t sure if there’s anything he can do regardless. ”What happened?” He inquires softly when he thinks she’s come back to him from whatever place she’d gone to for those brief moments.

short post

 

She does not deny that he is right in his protest. So far he is our only choice, The words tasted bitter on her mouth, her lips twisting in disgust at the thought of it. I am not well enough to take control. And everyone else who is otherwise eligible is indisposed, She would not give the title to anyone else — Vaati was their last bastion of strength, no matter how twisted his was in his actions. She could guide him if he would dare listen, but he should know that it was she who allowed him to take the mantle. And no one else. 

Her head lolls, held by a weak neck. Withdrawal, Is all she says, her drained body silencing her. She shakes herself lightly. I will find a new den, She says, more to herself than Kjalarr, before she stumbles away towards the nearest cave entrance. Why clutch so fervently onto the past, when there were so many new possibilities? 

i went ahead and wrapped this up, hope that's ok! <3

Potema’s words about having Vaati — a child, a reckless child that ruins everything he touches — at the helm of a pack when he has no experience and no place leading sound like nothing more than excuses to Kjalarr. Excuses as to why no one else wants to take responsibility for him; and that was fair enough Kja agrees but in the end Vaati’s mistakes would become Blackfeather’s mistakes and they would all suffer the price. Kjalarr does not ask her from what she is withdrawing from: it doesn’t matter. What matters is helping her through it in any way that he can though he has already deduced that there is much he cannot do. He gives a curt nod and follows her silently, assisting her in her den search in any way that he can.