Dragoncrest Cliffs married to the game

All definitely welcome!

Slowly, surely, he was beginning to recover. And with that recovery came a stomach-twisting feeling of impending decision. He couldn't let Aure stay here, not with those fucking demons down in the sound probably planning another random attack. He wouldn't risk her nor their children for pride's sake. And it was clear that he was in no shape to defend them or Drageda against any near future onslaughts.

They had to leave. At least for a little while.

He paced through the trees near Hougeda, face racked with emotions just barely checked. His throat was an ugly, twisted mess of newly-scarred flesh, smelling pungently of herbs and stale blood. Other wounds marred his flesh--his muzzle, his shoulder, his ribs--but it was his neck that was most ghastly, a reminder of just how close he'd come to death.

And how close they all were to the same fate, with Rusalka continuing to dwell just down the coast.

"You're looking better," the boy said in announcing his arrival, sure to greet the rugged Cheka with a sweep of his raven tail should he look his way.

It was so refreshing to see Verx out and about after being at the brink of death, that young Dacio did not take note of the sourness on the other male's dark features. He padded closer, gaze sweeping over the wounds visible to him as he did so, keen to be certain that the wounded warrior had not reversed Aure's hard work.

He blinked up, finally finding the warrior's stony expression, and his brow furrowed in concern. "What's wrong?" Dacio asked.

He gave Dacio a grimace at the opening remark, but wagged his tail in greeting nonetheless, letting himself relax an iota. The question, though, had him tensing up once more, and he fixed an astonished stare on the young man.

What's wrong? Vercingetorix rasped. He laughed without humor, shaking his head. What's wrong is we're living next to a band of fucking psychopaths. What's wrong is that I'm either going to have to raise my kids with the woman who ripped my throat open as my neighbor, OR I'm going to have to take Aure and the kids away and be forever marked as natrona.

That was about all he had left as far as diatribes went, as he cleared his throat, swallowing thickly. That's what's wrong, he explained, his voice now barely a whisper. God, this sucks, bro. And I don't mean to take it out on you, just. . . He hung his head with a sigh, keeping it there for a moment before carrying on with his pacing, jerking his chin in invitation.

Right. Like Dacio wanted to hang with his salty ass.

He hadn't expected Vercingetorix to turn on him with a snippy attitude, and his furrowed brows lifted in surprise. A dark ear flicked backward, awkward, and teeth held firm to allow his raven companion the opportunity to rant. While Dacio was confident that Drageda would never let their neighbours succeed, he could appreciate the vulnerable condition that Verx found himself in.

He'd been bested by the enemy. The threat of them remained.

Dacio remained silent, blinking at the suggestion of willingly becoming natrona. Something bitter swelled within his chest, rousing the memory of his own sister's betrayal, and he bit back the desire to rumble his frustration. Always dutiful, the young Gona did not speak his thoughts on the matter and instead held his quiet judgement.

"And what of Aure," he started coolly, padding after his comrade as he paced away, "what does she think?"

He gave a little nod of approval as Dacio fell in step without a word in edgewise, asking about Aure instead. She wants to leave, Verx responded, eyes drifting toward the path to the apothecary. She brought it up. And I agree, because, like, what else was I gonna say? 'No, raise our kids in this pit of snakes so my pride stays intact'? Fuck that shit.

The brute glanced toward the young man, then, his pace slowing slightly. And I'd be a real dick to send her off somewhere and stay and fight. Not be with my kids, in their lives. Right? Portia had left Dacio and Opalia, though not by choice (at least, so he assumed). Hers was a hole in their hearts that could never be filled.

But perhaps if the children never knew him, anyway. . .

What would you do? Verx asked, coming to a halt and staring at his companion. Sure, it was a great opportunity to rest his throat while someone else blabbered on, but he did value other opinions, even those from the youthful.

She wanted to leave. She brought it up. Dacio's jaw clenched, the muscles there tightened in disappointed frustration. The Skayona would turn from Drageda, after making a home among them and forging bonds among its kru, luring one of their own along with her. He did not consider the fact that she carried Vercingetorix' offspring, being too young to understand the value of children.

He stopped listening to Verx as he tried to explain the situation, instead wondering how he and Aure might take their leave. Would they slip away undercover of night, prowl into the darkness when the opportunity arose? Dacio felt he should veer away then, seek to inform Blixen of this betrayal, but his focus returned when the wounded Cheka paused to stare right at him.

Dacio's cool gaze lifted, meeting the platinum of his companion, and his dark ears tipped backward at the bold question he asked of him. The boy frowned, his expression hardened. "I'd stay," he answered with confidence. "Not for pride, but for Drageda. For Wormana. For my father and sister, the memory of my mother. For you." His brow furrowed, tail giving an agitated sweep at his hocks. "We're in this together, Verx. All of us." So don't ditch us now, when we need to stick together most.

Dacio didn't get it. And that was okay. He would have said the same thing, at that age. Completely devoted to Trigeda, a budding warrior, unattached to anything of substance besides his kru. Hell, that was him fucking three months ago, right?

Everything had changed.

I wish it was that easy, Verx responded with a gusty sigh. It's not just Drageda anymore, bro. It's my kids. You think I want this for my kids? They wouldn't even get a chance at a normal life; we'd be constantly on alert. Which wasn't altogether different from his own childhood--but then, he hadn't made that decision for himself. But he could make it for them.

His mouth twisted, mind plagued with indecision. We could go to Trigeda, but Aure's too far along, he murmured. It's not just about me anymore, Dacio, or my kru. As much as I want it to be.

He was no parent. Perhaps in the eyes of a wolf out with Drageda, Dacio would still be considered a child himself. Thrust into the adult ranks at six months of age and forced to grow up much sooner than anticipated, he certainly felt more mature than he really was. The transition from Goufa to Gona had been sudden but smooth, and back then he'd embraced it with pride - now, following the repetition of misfortune in his life since, he often wished he could return to the simpler times of his childhood.

Had Grimnismal not been uprooted by the beast that ravaged the coast, Dacio and his sisters could have been born amid their conflict. He always thought it was the way of Drageda; they were soldiers, bred for that purpose, expected to prepare for battle by training that begun at infancy. He frowned deeply at the Cheka's comment regarding normality, because he believed that no matter where they'd go, they couldn't escape who they were.

He could see the conflict on Vercingetorix' face, and found himself wondering if he would feel this way had the topic not been surfaced by the pallid Skayona. He bristled slightly, suddenly resenting her for planting the seed of doubt in his mind, a doubt that Drageda was incapable of defending their own. "You know what it means to leave," Dacio said, stony gaze lifting to seek the platinum of his comrade's own, "could you live with the shame? Of knowing you've abandoned us? Of shedding your name and marking yourself as natrona?" Because he didn't know if he could. He didn't know how anyone could.

I don't know, he answered truthfully, staring back at Dacio. But I definitely couldn't live with myself if I kept my kids in danger, given the choice to get them out. Verx swallowed again, looking out over the lake nearby. Watching the ripples on the water, moving so quickly, yet infinite. On and on. . .

Fuck, he was getting philosophical over here.

He glanced at the young man. I'm going to regret any decision I make, you know, Vercingetorix remarked. He snorted softly, the ghost of a chuckle. Nothing I do will be right. I just have to choose the lesser of two evils. Surely Dacio, for all his youth, could understand that, right?

But perhaps not. The kru life was more than a little brainwashy; the constant barrage of natrona! they'd learned throughout their training was hard to just erase. At least Verx was worldly enough to know that it wasn't so black and white. Dacio didn't have that luxury.

He was angry and he was hurt, but it was easier to wear the former. The boy's brow furrowed above his narrowed eyes and, gritting his teeth to bite back the rumble that swelled in his chest with every word Verx spoke.

It was pointless to argue with him, the young Drakru was swift to realise, because his decision had clearly been made. Perhaps the dark Cheka shared it with the hope he might gain some sort of approval, maybe even some support from another to join him, but Dacio would offer neither.

Charcoal tail lashed in irritation at his rear, and he swept his gaze over his raven companion's many wounds. Natrona, he thought fiercely, bitterly, and found himself wondering if he would even survive uprooting himself. Accompanied only by a wolfess who should've been preparing the whelp? He naively believed no others would follow them, choosing instead to stand by Blixen's charge.

"Goodbye, Vercingetorix," was all he could find the strength to muster as he lifted his cool stare to seek that of a wolf he once considered kru. His gaze was sharp on him for a moment longer, judgemental, before he turned away and padded from the scene.

The boy was angry, he knew. He would have been, too. Livid. Furious. He couldn't find fault with the reaction at all. His own face remained somber even as Dacio fumed, and when the other gave him a farewell, Verx simply nodded.

Leidon, Dacio, the warrior murmured. He wasn't even sure if Dio's son heard him. Didn't matter; he was natrona, now. His words held no weight here. He'd spoken his intention to leave--in any other circumstance, it would have been suicide.

Now, with the cliffs crumbling (metaphorically, at least) around them, it edged much closer to self-preservation than a kamikaze mission.