Wheeling Gull Isle Fallen from God Fallen from grace

@Rhælla tagging to let you know this is a thread for Aristos!

As the group split up, Rosencrantz was one of the last to leave. He waited for everyone else to excitedly go off on their own island adventure, only then did he go off on his own. With no real plan in mind, he wandered around, looking at the rock formations and deciding if he really did fit in here or not. It has been a long time since Biserkir, almost over three years now; and this pack, though small, did he belong?

Eventually, he found himself on a small sandy beach, between rocky terrain. The soft sand between his toes moved under his weight as his pace slowed to a stop. The breeze running through his long plush pelt, the white of his armor shining in the pale moonlight as the shimmering silvers dazzle. He already knew he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight, not well at least, and not for long. Perhaps he would spend his time right here, on the beach, with his own thoughts - should anyone allow of course. 

He didn't think anyone would come near. With a deep sigh, he began his meditation.

sorry to hog your threads but I'm eager for these two to thread again XD

Night would set her apart from the forests of the Isle, limbs stretching in a double-suspended gait like a sighthound as the once Queen of Icadearian burned through the prickling anxiety that would not let her sleep. Whether it was apprehension of night terrors to come or worry over the work that needed to be done, Rhælla couldn't be certain. 

A fragment of the nite fallen to earth, the girl found her leaping gait skidding, slowing, dark muzzle rising to meet the cosmos as she reached the beach. Slower, contained, the aspiring leader picked up a relaxed trot along the sandy stretch - gaze wandering between the waves and skies as if unable to choose a favorite. 

Initially, she remained unaware of the ivory wraith's presence - passing by should he fail to call her attention to him - gaze admiring the crooked, abstract sculptures of stone.

That's okay! I'm happy you joined! Also... I NEVER KNEW SHE TOO HAD A SCAR ON HER RIGHT SIDE, SCAR BUDDIES!!

As he stood in silence, tall, relaxed, he felt himself become one with the environment. Listening to the waves as they crashed onto the shore, the gulls as they lowly squawked in the night here and there in the distance at their nests. With a slowed breath, he drew in every scent, the grass, the sand, the water. Even if he could not sleep, this would be a close second. He felt every breeze as it brushed passed him, every now and then he felt the cool kiss of the ocean spray against his face.

Then something changed in the environment. Ears twitching at the sound of footsteps along the beach. Nose eventually catching scent as well at it moved into the direction. It was her. The one who started all this. Like a predator in wait for their prey to come too close, he remained silent and still, listening to her footsteps and only spoke the moment she was right in front of him.

Quite the following you have gathered. It was the first time he had spoken within the group since they had met on that hunting day. His vocals felt odd as the words came slipping out for the first time in what felt like forever. Another first followed through as well, a smirk. Still with his eyes closed, unmoving, facing the ocean, he continued with a tease. Of males. What he noticed was that there was only one other female that followed the stary pelt woman. It was amusing.

Not many females for the picking.

Repair - their relationship has become after the burn of agitation smolders away, after Rhæ woke to an ambered orb peering into her own. It's unsettling, this tightwire they walk between ally and uncertainty - Rhælla's eye often trailing, finding searchingly. 

Pause she does, starting slightly as a surprised orb of amethyst found him amongst the shadows - glooming not unlike the ghost of a haunt but resoundingly right nestled amongst darkness, as if embraced and at home. 

It would be a lie to say she knew him well; yet, even the wisp hears the jest in his tone - a grin breaking across her features as she dared draw a few steps closer. 

"Aye," she agrees in a soft purl, "all men strangely enough - save for Padma." Slender caps of ebony rose and dropped in a slight shrug, uncertain what to make of this coincidence but not overly concerned. 

"Mayhaps I'll need to return to the mainland soon; scrounge up some womenfolk," comes her next words in the tone of a joke, somewhat hesitant as she extends this camaraderie to him - hopeful though a voice whispered she should expect venom in his gaze, a lash to his tones at any moment. 

"Do you fret - worried there will be no body to warm you when the winter comes?" She dared to tease in return, a soft and breathy chuckle breaking against the night air.

Would be wise. He agreed. No venom lacing his words this time as he simply sat there. Eye closed, facing the ocean. Later. Continuing his thought, he added slowly to his thoughts. Leave now and they'll all think you've abandoned them. This time his eye opened, glancing at Rhælla with a sideways glance, unreadable in emotion as he tried to read hers. Continuously he spoke as if he was not quite part of them. As if he was the exception; or just perhaps, not quite one of them in general, of her group.

No. He didn't put any thought into his answer, it came naturally to the once barbarian. All humor from before melting away, it was unnatural him - such bemusement didn't come naturally to such a thing like himself. It would be a winter like any other. Come winter he would be four years old, still without a mate, still without children, not that he was to blame anyone for that other than himself. Rosencrantz had made no effort within his home pack, or after to find a beloved. His eye lingered on the woman perhaps a little too long, still as cold as the ice from home; only now did it seek refuge out into the darkness that spread across the ocean. 

A winter like any other. He wasn't even certain of such a statement. Should he stay, it would certainly be different from the previous years. No mate at his side - but a pack. If they accepted him of course. Should old habits return, perhaps they wouldn't accept him around. As the thoughts plagued his mind, his gaze hardened as he stared out into the sea, as if he had heard something disgraceful. 

Why have you decided to create a following. His words fell a little harsh this time around, the softness in his tones dissipating as he lost himself within his own thoughts without realizing.

The girl nodded in agreement - there was too much to be done around the territory for such a trip anyhow. Things were delicate, her presence was needed upon the Isle; as Rosencrantz had said, later. 

Her lips curled in amusement though she bit down on the lower , attempting to stifle the slow curl - fearing it might offend him when they had just begun to mend. The ivory guardian's prediction about the winter, however, brought a falter to her mirth and caused soft words to tumble from her lips. 

"Gods, I hope not."

There was a touch of something - a withheld shudder of cold perhaps - to the words, something utterly vulnerable but free. The exile didn't consider that he might pry - it wasn't like him. Rhælla expected he would say nothing of the lonely note in her lilt which was exactly why she trusted herself to say it. 

The woman - whose eye had drifted from him - snapped back to focus on the icebear as he prosed a surprising question. 

"I was hungry," she admits - knowing he will understand that she does not mean for food. 

"Some bad things happened...I did things...I was hurt," she murmured honestly, unable or unwilling to lie as lilac met honey evenly. 

"When I left home...I couldn't look ahead and see what I should be anymore," she breathes, "all I could see was what had happened, my rage."

"Dying, giving up, anything like that just tastes too much like defeat."

She wouldn't have that.

"I want to lead because I just want in general."

"I want to build something, a home and a life I can be proud of. I want family and community and protection, to provide opportunities for others and offer them a chunk of something real, something that could be happiness and family." 

"I want to make sure something like this," she tipped her head, referring to her wounded eye, "never happens again - to anyone, if I can help it."

The fae's chin tilted up a smidgen, violet orb swirling with determination as if daring him to mock her - mayhaps it was a bit corny for her life's desires to be a pack and family, a mate and children, but she wasn't about to defend her wish for those things.

What was that for, worried you may be solitary when the cold strikes? Her tone did not go unnoticed. Although his eye remained on the sea, he heard the tone as it wilted in her voice. A part of him was certain he was wrong in his assumption, but this was the moment to learn more about who may be his possible Alpha, Lady Rhælla, eventually. 

Listening to the stardust princess, Rose never broke his gaze to the sea. Her soft voice blending in with the tides as they licked onto the shore. Only when she vocally indicated an example did his eye roam back onto her face. The scar on her eye. Something he had taken note of after they had hunted, he wondered where she may have gotten that from, certainly not from the doe - apparently, he had failed to take in her appearance in fully on the day they had met. 

Sounds like a child's dream. Harsh. It was the only way one could see him at this moment. Eye brushing her off once again to view the vastness of the sea. With a sigh, he wasn't certain what he was hoping the answer to be. If it was he was looking for or disappointed. Still, he remained confused. Still. It is more than I know about myself. The man admitted. 

No dreams, no desires, he had nothing to share about the future and only a past to bury. A ghost, an empty feeling staining the earth wherever he roamed. Who was he to spit on someone else's dreams when they had something to hold.

"Aye, I do, if I'm being honest," she laughed as she said it, deflecting the seriousniess of his inquiry for an air of jest. "Don't we all on some level?" 

"Mayhaps," the once Queen agreed, gentle as a morning breeze, with a soft twist of her lips - her own gaze drifting out to sea to join Rosencrantz's upon the waters. 

"But to many, to me, it sounds like what I imagine heaven to be like," she allowed herself to muse quietly, before she could question if she should. 

"If that is not what you desire - a wife to love and tend to your needs, children to fill your hearth, a pack to belong to, peers to stand by - then what?" The nightwisp asked of him, turning then to chance a look in his direction seekingly. 

"When you look forward, what do you see for yourself?" She dared even further, thinking it only fair - he'd asked first - though she wouldn't pressure him if he didn't wish to answer.

Don't we all? She asked, and he did too. Was it something he desired? Ingrained into his mind, taught since birth, was that the thing he should desire the most is the death of a warrior. Above all else, to die with honor in the heat of battle - but was he still such a beast. Within him still, beat the heart of a Birserkir, war-hungry and thirsty for the top; but as he aged, he wasn't certain anymore. The longer he spent away from that pack, the less it seemed to come second nature. 

She described her heaven, intriguing really. 

As she turned her question back onto him, without a moment of thought he answered. Nothing. As sad as a word it was, he felt no remorse. No guilt. 

I see nothing for myself, just darkness. As a pup, I was taught to look forward to a warrior's end, and nothing more. Tilting his head to one side, his eye slid over back from the sea and onto the stary pelt of the princess. That empty stare burrowing deep into her soul, with the same feeling he had back in the pack of barbarians. That boy who killed for ranks with disregard for the life of his elders. Lifeless, soulless, and dreamless; he spoke with a similar air in tone. Pathétisk, er ce pa? Reverting back to the language of his past, as the words tumbled out smoothly, laced with a Danish accent entwining with the French.

A better question is what do I deserve. With a blink, he found himself again, from one beast to the next he jumped in between. Uncertain if the stoic soldier, or the soulless barbarian is whom he truly was - the man straddled the fence on a daily.

How very sad, how very empty he seemed in that moment - a husk of violence that had stamped out whatever he might've been otherwise. It tore at her heart, urging her to half-rise as if she had planned to reach towards him - sinking back onto her haunches as her muzzle drifted down to nestle against her chest, thinking better of the idea.

"How colorless a world you must have been raised in," she murmured softly, not unkindly. From what she'd gathered, his people sounded like the mountain tribes of Lirean - fearless brutes that centered their lives around war and pillaging. 

"A pointless question," she countered without venom, shaking her head as she turned to him. "It's not about what you deserve - no one can answer that question, nobody can offer you those things just because you 'deserve' them."

"It's about what you want, Rosencrantz," she whispered, turning back to the sea. "Whoever you were before, whatever you did, it's past."

"Who do you want to be here?" This was his chance - no matter what he thought he deserved, he was here now and a clean slate was sitting just before him.

I have other threads that need replies but DANG IT THIS THREAD

While she lived in dreams and desires, a colorful world that she seemed to have deemed as paradise in the works - his was void and grey. While hers the birds sang in beautiful melodies as she buried her past to make a new future, his world was silent as he struggled with identity, with purpose. As much as he may deem himself stronger than her, bigger, more skilled in the art of battle - he was weak in comparison to her inner strength, that fire that burned within the exiled's chest.

He listened to her carefully, deeming it wasn't right to answer. He had no answer. Unlike her, his ghosts were buried in a shallow grave, crying out to be let loose and allow the warlord to take stride once again. It wasn't his distant past. She was right about one thing, he had to decide on who to become; if only he found such a decision to be easy.

With a yearning in his gaze, he searched for something from her. As if he was afraid of his own answer, what he may decide if left to his own devices. Who do you need. The one brow arched downward. This was it, he decided. He would officially lend his abilities to her, whatever it may be. Maybe she was what he was looking for, that reason for being, a job. 

He looked onto her, seeking something more, finally a purpose to come to him. Something more than the vast emptiness of freedom.

I knowwww XD

Who do you need? 

It floored her. 

No one, was the rebellious scream that rang forth within - itching to be spit out as it dangled from her tongue. She needed none, that independent and protective side of her claimed victoriously - it was she who'd rescued her from Lucavon, she who survived alone, she who fought against all for the chance to build this. 

Silently, swallowing the former urge, she mulled it - allowing herself to delve into that dangerous and lonely place, considering for once what he, or any man, could give her. 

"I need a confidante," the celestial fae at last lilted in a soft rasp. For all the recruits she'd gathered, how many of them knew her, aside from possibly Daegon? Who had she shared more with than this man, in the past few moments? 

"I need this, whatever it is," she admitted - whatever conflict had strained them it was Rosencrantz's presence that drew honesty from her lips, his that put her at ease and on edge simultaneously - allies, friends, whatever they were, he quieted the storm.

We can end it if you'd like! I'd love another soon whenever you have time! We can make it an actual thread for Aristos, maybe they look around for a good group den area or a meeting place!

Although he yearned for an answer, to get something more to live for than what he ever had - a part of him believed she would never answer. That it would be left on silent terms and he would continue to wander. Because who was he to ask for such a thing from anyone, from her of all individuals, why was it her job to give him meaning? To bless him with a shield against those demons that tugged and roared for attention, to be fed in a gladiator lifestyle. 

But as he slowly accepted his fate to linger, she spoke. A confidante? The word rang in his ears. The closest thing to a friend he had was his brother, Guildenstern, but even then they were no closer than what blood ties would allow. Whatever this is. He repeated softly, just as confused about what the answer could be.

I will be nothing less. Un ami.

It was lacking, or so he seemed to imply in his stout way - but there was nothing else she could give him. 

Everything, everyone, else she might need were not his to give or else something she could not ask of him. 

I need more than just a confidante, someone to trust in times ahead. I need connection - someone who will love me in a way that is real, unquestionable. I need a husband. 

She could only imagine the expression he would wear. He'd claimed himself unsuited to marriage and Rhæ knew well they were strangers - it wasn't a serious consideration in any instance - but that didn't abate the forlorn ache murmuring within her breast. 

"What of your needs, Rose?" The noxborne lilted after a moment - feeling unsettled. 

"Who can I be, for you?" The girl asked, gaze only flitting to him then - real question hidden in her words. 

Can I be the same for you? Will you let me? 

Stop being so thick-headed Rose! Read between the lines!!!

Unaware of the turmoil within her head at his answer, he was quite pleased with the idea. More than he has had in years. Quite frankly he wasn't certain on how to react, what to feel - joy perhaps? It would be slow learning, but there was a possibility for him to get accustomed to such a different way of life. 

Then she continued, once again asking him for more - asking him what he wanted, what he needed in return. Such a thing was never posed before, not a thought that crossed him more than just the desire for food to an empty stomach, or... A distraction. He finally admitted after a moment of thought. 

I don't wish to become a mindless beast, fighting with no reason other than to fight. Not anymore. Were he to fight again it would be for much more than greedy desires to gain whatever he had in sight. To train, and to protect. There had to be many more reasons to fight than what he was raised to believe.

I'll help build your heaven if you keep my demons at bay.

A distraction. 

Such simple words yet sharpened as they feel from the whetstones of his lips, twisting into her flesh to pierce that secret, weak part of her. 

Rhælla swallowed against the stab, pushing it down as she did all pain - where it belonged deep inside unseen, unable to escape and wreak ruin. 

"Then fight for me," she whispered, the words falling from a numbed tongue that would not allow her to consider the implications of her words. "For us - all of us. For this." 

"You will be my Tactician - guardian of this Isle and protector of our pack."

"If you so desire," she murmured at last, unwilling to place that weight on his shoulders if it wasn't something he wanted. 

I started out attempting to wrap this thread up but...now I'm screaming watching this unfold !!

The man wasn't very good at reading another's expression, or picking up on subtle hints that another might be laying down in any kind of conversation. Perhaps he was alone for far too long, or it was a gift that he had lacked. But her pain to his answer didn't go noticed even if she did make it obvious enough for anyone else. 

Perhaps one day he'll learn, but that would only come in time, with practice... perfection might escape his grasp, but at least he would be better than he is now. 

I accept. The offer was perfect. He could still exercise that desire to fight that lingered within but put it to better use. But most of all, he would protect Rhælla. Without realizing, he had grown fond of the star dusted princess, her spirit and gusto was admirable, and she contrasted him in many ways. 

Right now he couldn't explain how he felt, chalked it up to friendship if nothing else. I must warn you, I take my job very seriously. Finally, he broke again, a teasing tone attempting to alleviate the air as he stretched himself out, shoulders rolling back in a perfect posture.

And already his mind began to wander on what should be done for the pack of hers... the first that came to mind was to figure out the food supply. Perhaps in the morning he would search the island and brainstorm a strategy to keep everyone fed. An island was a perfect defense, but he worried about food supplies and draining the island dry of its natural resources (this is what I decided would be his reason for leaving the island for a bit :P).

Rhælla was left to hover in anticipation, silent - only her heart to beat in her ears as she waited with an air of patience, a facade of poise. 

A small sound escaped her, one of relief, nearly inaudible as his response fell on her auds - the simple phrase seeming to burst into the tense air. 

"Thank you," she breathed softly, unable to conjure anything more grand. Weight shifted off her chest, stones she hadn't been aware of laying, and she tried not to think about why Rosencrantz made her feel safer. 

Maybe it was nothing more than instinctive trust, laid at his paws the moment her eye opened to find he had not abandoned her to sate his own needs. 

Maybe it wasn't - which was why she dared not look too closely. 

"Only the more reason why you're right for the job," the wisp murmured honestly. Serious was good - serious could work in terms of protecting their home.