Bearclaw Valley [M] they breathe you in, and dive as deep as they can

sry not sry <3

so this was where merrick's bastards lived, wasn't it?

astara sniffed around the den, finding her blood roaring to new boiling heights as she thought of her bear, fucking that ugly beast in this miserable cave while she whelped, nursed, and raised his firstborn kin.

was she useless, then? was she just a pawn, so @Merrick could flounce off and fuck whoever he wanted? she could just see it; the glowering eye half-lidded in ecstasy as he plowed in and out of the mindless, worldless brute as if she were a second-rate replacement. wasn't it funny, how he had a type?


astara had been none too kind to either of her children -- a first -- as she drove @Aventus and @Avicus both from the comfort of their den in tumbleview, to this dilapidated, uninteresting hovel that housed the spawn of her bear!

oh, her children would be raised in blood -- oh, they would see what happened to those who crossed their mother's thorny heart --

astara cocked an ear towards the den, where she heard the stirring of @Astyanax and @Glaucos; where she thought she heard the slow breathing of their mother -- the tavernside slut that had been coupled by none other than HER OWN BEAR --

a fruminous veil of scarlet obscured astara's vision as she hung her head low in the den and snarled for @Ikkalrok.

for, if she could not secure her bear's heart as her own entirely, she would kill any that came close to that smoldering realm.

feel free to skip, as she is only observing for now (if engaged, please tag)

Hatred burned deep within the soul of her dark counterpart, and she felt it with every beating moment. She was there, then, watching. A part of her succumbed to a madness that could only be gifted by Sithis himself. She could feel the blood surge through Thief's veins and everything about her step made it clear that she was here to steal nothing but lives that day.

The pale ghost stayed at a distance, simply watching. She did not think to quench the thirst that grew within Thief's chest; no, the only thing that was whispered in her ears was more, more, MORE -- more blood -- more anger -- more rage -- and Thief was giving them what they wanted. Pale eyes danced with intrigue as she watched the world in that moment as though she were an audacious fae watching its playthings. However deep she sank in the spirit world, at the same time the priest felt very confirmed in this, the mortal world, and licked her lips as she soaked in both sides of the coin at once, allowed both edges of the blade to cut into her flesh.

The world swam before his eyes. The light pierced them, singed them deeply, made him cry out when he first discovered this capability, and now he lingered in the dark as if to hide himself from it. It was too warm - were it not summertime perhaps the boy would be content. Within the earth, surrounded by bodies, he was more uncomfortable than ever - he had to escape it.

His little flippers kicked and flailed until he managed to stand himself up, teetering, not so much walking out of the darkness so much as dragging his weak limbs. Dragging his front legs helped; Glaucos carved a small path with his belly as he went, trailing towards the light, and as he emerged beneath a shaft of orange glow, he let out a shriek and tried to withdraw. Reversal was not an option.

Those sensitive little eyes. He could not make sense of the shapes; but he felt the light and saw a darkness creeping closer, and somewhere in his developing heart he thought, mother! And as desperate as he was beneath his spotlight, he managed to thrust himself towards Astara with a pitiful cry.

Slow.

Calm.

Quiet.

Awake.

The tread was not the familiar tread of her bear. Her husband was not near; he did not need to be. She was awake. And by the time Astara was near enough, Ikkalrok erupted forth from the den without so much of a snarl as an answer. Astara would only ever know her teeth. With her brood at risk, there was nothing else for her to do.

He had been peacefully asleep, curled against his brother in a slumber that was warm yet comfortable. It was not to last, however, as Glaucos peeled away with a flailing of his limbs, kicking Astyanax on the chin as he did so. He awoke with a disgruntled growl, flipping onto his stomach as he peered at the lumpy shape that crawled ever so slowly towards the light at the entrance of the den.

The boy released a high-pitched cry, cut short as suddenly he was kicked once more by the form of his furious mother bursting forth into the sunlight. He was oblivious to the murderous shadow and her specter of an accomplice outside, unaware of the danger he and his brother were in. He only wanted for warmth, for sleep, and he too stumbled towards the fray in a dizzy, distressed panic, whimpering all the way.

this is odd. normally Astara is working overtime to keep her inside the den, but today—when she is actually enjoying a nap!—Avicus finds herself rudely awakened, pushed up and at 'em and out into the light. frowning, she follows her dam, still a little dazed from slumber. it is only when the den comes into view that she realizes the destination.

but. . .not the intent.

the intent becomes quite clear, however, when a summons comes rumbling from her mother's throat and the other woman responds in kind. Avicus hangs back, feeling a sense of deja vu. just like the other day—what is so special about this place? these wolves?

a small figure at the mouth of the den, and then another. she is sorely tempted to wander that way, but she is, once again, riveted by Astara's ferocity. she cannot rip her eyes away from the blackbird.

cameo for now, he's not there yet :O

the youngest-born in ursus had never garnered merrick's attention. with no true fatherly inclination toward his own young, he bore even less a care for revui's brood. it seemed the greyscale mountain too did not lend himself well to the ways of paternity, though merrick was not a wolf who cared to watch the comings and goings of those he trusted.
today he drifted toward the place in ursus where the blackbird kept her young. he meant to lie lazily in the sun nearby, perhaps teach another favored word to the little brutes.
but they were not present, and merrick scented the ground for the trail astara had left, padding after the trio with unhurried steps that lacked urgency, unmindful of the terrible passions erupting at its end.

incensed beyond the fickle realm of logic, astara's thunderous snarl split the entryway, and a shade rose soon after.

she flexed her claws reflexively in the sand as the harlot came wordlessly from the den; larger, possibly stronger -- but was she imbued with the same hateful bile?

astara lunged.

first, she would rip the stiffened trachea from this wordless bitch, and lay the bloody pipe on the stone so gristle could turn sour and black --

second, she would grab those mewling children of merrick, and dash their skulls against the stone --

so that their brainmatter would splatter across andesite and granite, rot and corrupt alongside the truncuated throat of their dam --

she was unaware of her children. she would not notice merrick. her eyes were only for ikkalrok, and that dark, svelte thrumming of bloodlife beneath throat.

astara's teeth flashed in a merciless arc, and she drove herself into the woman with not a single ounce of abandon.

There came a sweeping blackness enough to eclipse his hazy world; a prehistoric beast of the soundless depths, circling in death. The roar of the rival beasts accompanied the darkness and for a moment Glaucos was stilled by their twinning voices, stunned, lost among the chaos of the deep. He instinctively fell to his belly against the dirt and twisted there, twitching, feeling for something familiar, and finding nothing but the hollow.

Breathlessly she watched as her dark counterpart's anger engulfed her. Perhaps she could have done something if she wished, the priest, but chaos and destruction were the tools of her deities and her spirits and they watched just as she did, unwanting for this display to end. The pale ghost stood and watched without mercy in her hard gaze.

She could only react.

The gnashing fangs of Astara hit their mark, but not where they intended to. Her eruption out of the den was prompt enough to prevent the woman from hitting where it was she desired to that time, but battles and the odds of them changed by the moment. Ikkalrok then moved to bear down upon the other with a bearish roar in an effort to chase her from her whelping den—but if that did not work, her fangs would seek to brand Astara as Merrick had been. Ikkalrok would pluck the eye from her first, and who knew what next?

averna lurked out of range; astara's melonii gaze caught the sliver ghost's for but a moment before ikkalrok bore down upon her.

she grunted under the force of the blow, feeling her hind legs scrape against the stone and grass as the bear nearly knocked her down. a roar sounded from the colossus, one that drowned out nearly all save the maddening, shrieking fury in astara's brain --

the blackbird flew for the woman's jaws, intent then to put her down and let her children drown in the bloodspill. her teeth flashed as ikkalrok turned to meet her, wincing as the bear's teeth dragged ruthlessly from cheek to lip, cleaving a brilliant pink line which resembled some gruesome eternal grin. astara's senses were overwhelmed by agitation and adrenaline, but it did not slake the pain that violently bid her attention.

when he came up, they were locked together. and they were not alone, for the blackbird had brought with her the small spectators. merrick frowned at this, for a moment ignoring the riotous clash of obsidian for where the red girl and dark boy found themselves.
he nodded to @Averna, slipping around her to roughly nudge his lover's brood some feet away, toward their pale relative. she was family to the bruin-tooth, in some way, though merrick did not know how.
he would not interfere; he skulked into a sit to watch the outcome of the scene, ready to observe whatever winner might come from this.

The two monsters became locked in battle, Astyanax could barely follow with his infant gaze as he struggled to keep up with the whirlwind of clashing shadows. Their roars were fierce, deafening, and the boy crouched beside his brother as he lowered himself into the dirt as if to hide away from the chaos. Other figures lurked in the background, equally blurry shadows as they stalked round the feuding beasts.

Astyanax blinked once at the onlookers, locking on the particularly bright shock of red for a moment, before glancing to Glaucos in uncertainty.

She caught a brief glimpse of her dark counterpart before she and her opponent crashed into each other, violent sparks flying and she watched because it was the only thing she could do. The priest murmured beneath her breath to Sithis as she watched. She nodded to Bear as he arrived though, as children were directed towards her, made no motion to collect them; she would stand and be there for them should they heed their father's call and come to her, though her attentions were shifted mostly towards the display. What would Bear do, would he interfere?

No, he did not. Truly a worthy mate for Thief. The priest watched the fight as it unfolded and watched the children as their gazes fell upon the fight. Their minds would truly be anointed in blood today. A good start to their lives.

Force, meet object. He could not tell which was his mother and which the eclipse, both hazy and dark and yet so animated by violence that he was frightened; a strong feeling, perhaps the strongest sensation he had yet to feel. Glaucos felt something warm settle alongside his body and he tucked in to the crux of it, hiding by squishing in close to his brother, but still he felt that fear. It made him shudder, made him feel so small, and then there was a wetness seeping between his legs which muddied the earth and soaked in to his coat and that of Astyanax. He did not feel ashamed of relieving himself in that moment - and burrowed his face in to his brother.

Ikkalrok was nothing but brute force; as her fangs scythed the cheek of Astara's yielding flesh, she was galvanized and forged forward. There was little to her that was protecting her cubs, now, as others became present—were that the case she surely would have retreated to hunker over them as more came upon the scene. It was not pride, either—it was more the thrill of the fight in which she had not partaken in in so long now. She did not see the mad glint in the others eye, but as Astara came to her with her fanged rebuttal, and had she a voice to say so with, Ikkalrok would say she heard the madwoman's voice as clear as day.

Too late now. Ikkalrok saw that she was had as her jaw was gripped by the wretch. And saw, too, that nothing would stop her. Her brown eyes hardened with resolve as Ikkalrok looked to Astara, a low, mocking snarl ekking forth from her as she awaited her execution. No doubt this was to come, but Ikkalrok pressed forward with all of her might so that her cubs would, at the very least, not drown as Astara might like—she had the strength for that much, at least.

blood.

she wanted blood;

tasted it; reveled in it. 

scarlet dripped down her exposed cheeks. her merrick somewhere behind, watching. 

did he see all this?
did he see the lengths she would not stop, could not stop, to keep him as hers’ alone? would he know he had driven her to this relentless hateful violent delightful madness? would he appreciate all that she did and continued to do to secure her place in his infidel heart?

astara’s teeth set deep to merrick’s (assumed) lover. the children were all but a blur in her periphery as astara’s lunatic eyes widened first with pained shock and then cruel triumph;

her teeth, held around Ikkalrok’s pulsing throat —

one second alive —

a terrific snarl rent the murkwood as merrick’s gibbering rook tore the throat from Ikkalrok’s blackened pelt. astara’s eyes closed as a sickening crunch sounded, followed by the heavy splatter of carotid blood dampening the glistening black of her fur. 

meanwhile, a cerise bouquet of unsettling red bloomed around astara’s feet. 

no remorse; no second guessing. just the unraveled, unshakable certainty of a rook who would do anything to stake her eternal claim over merrick.

One final push, fangs seeking to thrust themselves into the others tongue to cut it to ribbons—

But whether that yielded anything at all, Ikkalrok would never know.

The light of her already dull eyes darkened and dimmed to nothing as the spark of her life snapped out with unquestionable finality. The staggering forward was nothing but her nerves reacting, no forethought or much of anything else to it than that as the entire weight of her lurched forward—toward Astara—without the bellow of timber to preclude the way her body might hit against being or earth, otherwise.

Her lifeless stare might be toward any number of wolves surrounding them... or perhaps them all, depending on where they might stand.

a clash a clash a —
blood pooling around the catlike paws of his lover
— the silent brutish woman cut-throat and blank-eyed, collapsing into the splash of a viscous red puddle.
lust rose savagely in merrick; he stood to his paws, trembling, plume stiff behind him. single eye-gaze for her, offered upon the altar of the metallic scent floating upward and up and up 
no thought spared for the small bodies huddled toward the mouth of the den.
"i love you."

Blood, blood, everywhere suddenly as it fled from the body. It was hard to see whose body at first as teeth clashed but as the body of the assailed started to falter it became clear that it was her dark counterpart that had emerged the victor. She licked her lips as she watched the blood pool, mad voices whispering in her ears. Sithis is pleased, she whispered, words as if driven by themselves and not truly a part of her own doing. The pale priest watched as Bear approached Thief and he seemed to revel in the aftermath of the violence and the blood too, just as she, just as Thief -- just as they all.

The priest understood why the spirits should lead her here.

normally she might have argued, but given the extraordinary circumstances, Avicus allowed herself to be herded toward the pale woman by the one-eyed man. but her eyes were for Astara, still. she watches the two clash, one a giant like the man, the other her lithe mother, dark and fierce. her heart is in her throat.

and then— it happens before she can really process it. one moment of two living creatures, the next of just one. her gaze follows the blood that blooms out over the earth, like waves over a beach she's never seen. a red tide from her mother's jaws.

squeezing, squeezing. crushing the worm had been similar, as had merrick's slaughter of the man in the field. now she knows their kind is able to die. to be killed.

blood. death. she isn't sure what to think or feel and instead simply, silently watches, the iron tang in the air sparking a kind of hunger-ache in her belly.

;_;

He stood huddled beside his brother as they cowered, watching in confusion and terror as the mothers clashed — a mountain versus a shade. The odd metallic scent that hung in the air began to strengthen, first with the tearing of Astara's flesh and then again as she landed that fateful blow.

For a moment it looked like they had froze mid-battle, locked in a savage embrace with Ikkalrok held by the throat between the jaws of her combatant. Astyanax didn't dare even breathe. Then suddenly there was the awful sound of something tearing, crunching, splattering upon earth and fur alike, followed by an almighty thump as their mother fell unceremoniously to the ground.

The boy could only stare, his heart a jackhammer in his tiny chest. Silence, before an utterance from the one-eyed male as he slunk towards his murderous love. Not that Ikkalrok's spawn could comprehend what murder was just yet, of the ramifications of what had happened. No, he only stared at what was once his mother — a rough, aggressive, monstrous beast — but his mother all the same.

"Mm-mnnuh!" he called for her, taking a daring step forward towards the lifeblood that seeped slowly towards the den. Finally, he tore his wide, frightened gaze from the crumpled form of Ikkalrok, and focused upon the one who had torn out her throat.

between the blood and fear a new acridity seeped into the air -- astara paid it little mind. her tongue felt raw -- later, she would notice ikkalrok's teeth had cut a deep groove across her jaw, slicing deep into her tongue.

her gaze fell to ikkalrok, the mountain -- the harlot that had bedded her merrick. she vowed in that moment that every wolf that laid with merrick would receive the same unkind fate - or she would die trying.

to merrick, astara gave but a rippling growl in response. bloodfever and fury were still upon her -- as was a rousing dose of adrenaline.

the children; not hers, but ikkalrok's; the blackbird turned to them with jaws slavering, a cruelty to her gaze. she had ever intention of holding both of them face down to their mother's blood until their struggles ceased.

ignoring her own child for now astara strode for glaucos, hungering -- only to be repelled by the stench of urine heavy around him. that split second of pause was all it took for astara to look at glaucos and see not just a creature to be dispatched, but a child -- a trembling, fearful child.

she thought of aventus, and how he had been wary; fear wreathed around ikkalrok's children in a similar manner. they might not share her blood, but did they not share merrick's? astara's resolve to kill them fractured away -- no matter how cruel or cold she became in this world, she did not believe she could kill fruit from merrick's seed.

panting, astara issued a second growl towards astayanx, who whimpered and stepped close. her gums raked back, exposing teeth: come no closer, the silent command suggested.

they might not be loved as her children were, but they were ikkalrok's no longer.

a cool glance then to merrick, studying him. astara nudged avicus gently, lowering her head and skulking towards the two fresh orphans. they had two options; be driven by her from the den, or be left alone to starve.

last from me <3

He did not see the aftermath; teeth sinking in to shadow, in to flesh, seeping blood. Soon there came a reverberating thud as the body that was once his mother hit the dirt, bloomed dusty spatter. Away went the comfort of his brother — rising and stumbling towards the still-warm boulder of coal. He is left behind: a mewling mess of piss, mud, and now the pooling blood that founts from mother's throat.

If Astyanax was not going to stay with him he would seek comfort elsewhere; Glaucos' sausage limbs shake with the exertion of rising and his belly drags through the mire as he tries to chase after Astyanax, but trips, and nose-dives in to a lake of red.