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After lingering in the area of Firestone Hot Springs for a couple of days more, even after his female companion had departed, Ragnar knew that he could no longer linger. Being away from Stavanger Bay for longer, extended periods of time made him nervous and he was feeling his nerves like sharp little razor blades digging into his skin as he roused awake at the call of an owl nearby, it's shrill screech loud and near. While the scarred Scandinavian enjoyed the thrills of traveling he also enjoyed and henceforth missed the company of his Queen Wife and his children. He supposed that he missed Nerian, as well, though her continued seclusion and lack of socialization with him personally, made him subtly begin to question his choices. It was hard to miss someone that barely interacted with you, after all, and she wouldn't even come to him with her fear of children or whatever it was that was wrong with her. Ragnar had to find out through his children and even then she kept it hidden away. Ragnar wasn't sure what to do, and was afraid that his interest in his priestess was beginning to wan. Ragnar knew that he needed to approach her about it but that was a mountain he did not, exactly, have the time to tackle currently.
With a soft snort and a brief pause in his steps to stretch he slowed his approach, the scent of piss markers growing stronger, the scent hitting him like a nostalgic rush. Finally, he had found them. He was still a good stretch of feet away from the Spine wolves' borders, but even so the Viking tucked thoughts of his ruined and crumbling love life away, tucking all of it away so that he was left feeling as stoic as his scarred face usually showed. He was here on business and though his trail had grown cold — a side effect to being a Jarl and unable to just up and leave at the drop of a pin, he was determined to get at least some kind of information or lead on the matter. He would not rest until he knew he could return to Julooke and tell her with confidence that she was safe and that she would never have to worry about her attacker ever again.
Inhaling a deep breath, drawing in the crisp autumn air, Ragnar idled a more than respectful distance from the Spine wolves' borders, tossed his head back and let a howl, announcing his presence to them.
[size=xx-small]omg sorry if it's bad, i just wanted to assure no one else got it haha[/size]
'Be careful of what lies beneath the mask, darling'
Another of her father's teachings that had stuck with her during her life. One of the most important ones at that! It had served her well during her long months as a loner, and it would've served her better if she had applied it to her treacherous ex-packmates. Majesty and Erika been a prime, but no longer important example.
One would think that as a leader, Cara would've remembered such a valuable lesson. After all it is when one lies at the top of it all that the envious try to knock you down. But of course, the exeptionally young Alpha had allowed her father's words to slip from her mind. Instead of keeping her guard up, she had been around talking to loners, trying to persuade them into the gates of the Spine.
So far, they had had no luck -- but the stubborn Queen didn't rest either way. She patrolled the borders daily, not only to restrenghten the markers (despite their need of newcomers they couldn't exactly leave their lands unguarded) but to walk around, in hopes of meeting a stray soul looking for a pack to pledge their heart to.
In fact, the Viking's call stuck her right when she was tending said duties. Cara lifted her head and listened to his voice with curiosity, then without wasting another second she sprinted in his direction, her tail swishing from one side to another .
Her body posture changed as he came into view, though she kept herself with the stance of a Queen, she made sure to make to threatening movements to trigger the scarred man -- after all he had howled for her instead of barging in.
"Hello, how may I help you...?", she barked while sniffing the air a couple of times, waiting for the man to introduce himself and state his buisness.
It did not take someone long to answer his call and the creature that approached him, melting out of the landscape caught his icy caribbean gaze easily. He assessed her quickly, canting his head slightly to the side, black leathery nostrils flaring slightly to inhale and taste at her scent in attempts to individualize it from the mass of scents upon the Spine's borders. The Jarl recognized her for what she was almost immediately upon her approach, her stance a tell-tale sign, if the fact that her scent was one of the heaviest upon their borders hadn't also clued Ragnar in on her position within this pack. The Queen herself had came to greet him. A small smirk twitched at the corner of the scarred Scandinavian's lips and for a moment he was silent as her words reached across the space between them, lulling around him. For a further stretch of moments the Viking allowed the silence to settle, knowing that as the Spine's Queen she should, at least, be able to point him in some kind of right direction. Unless she would hide the man responsible for Julooke's near death.
The Queen took a couple of measured steps towards the male, her neck craining in a bird-like manner with the sole purpose of inhaling and commiting to memory his salty odour, particular of the sea. The silence that weighed upon them caused no discomfort for the pale female, this was her first meet up with one of her equals; and an event which was both exciting and nerve-werecking for the inexpirienced Alpha.
Though she kept her nervousness underneath a mask of indifference, she was hoping not to blow this chance to lift the Spine's name higher. Even if the purpose of his visit had not been yet revealed, Cara hoped that the message carried by the Viking was not one of war. With the way things were going the last thing the Spine needed were foreign attacks -- the inner conflicts had already weakened the former Empire enough.
Cara dipped her head gracefully as the man confirmed her suspicions about him also being an Alpha. Though it was hard to decipher where his accent came from or where this Bay was located, his calm and collected speech kept the girl on the edge of her seat. It were his eyes which betrayed the nature of his visit, despite the calm demeanour with which he presented himself, it was obvious that what lied beneath his icy pupils were not good news.
Slowly, like a viper that wrapped itself around its victim, he dropped the news on the girl. One of her own had been causing trouble -- bad enough to make the Alpha himself seek a solution along her borders. The muscles on her back tensed inmidiately, as her mind swirled around the possible trouble-maker he might be speaking of.
As embarrassing as the situation was, Cara knew it must be tackled from the root. Not only would this incident harm the Spine's reputation, but also her own. What kind of leader would she be seen as if she couldn't control her subordinates?
"Ragnar Lodbrok," she echoed with a pleasant half-smile, "I'm Cara Moretti, Queen of the Ouroboros Spine, do tell, who is the wolf that you're looking for? " she barked, in her most buisness-like voice.
Now she was calm.
But once Ragnar spilled the name of the bastard who had gone profaning the name of the Spine, her face patience would be long gone.
The Viking might have had no idea how to go about this in any sort of delicate manner he did know how to remain stoic, how to keep whatever anger might have been bubbling up within him concealed. It wasn't a fail proof defense system but most of the time it seemed to be on his side. On the grand scale of things it wasn't the Spine wolves that Ragnar had a problem with. They were far enough away from each other for Ragnar to comfortably not care. He didn't form alliances and he tried to avoid enemies though such things were unavoidable in the world. Ragnar had no problem with war, but that was when he had led the Cove and nearly every single one of his subordinates could fight and fight well. Stavanger Bay was thinning, dangerously, and it would be a lie to claim that it didn't concern him. With each loss of an adult wolf they were left with more children then adults and Ragnar could not see how that would end up working well for them. With each loss of an adult wolf that could hunt the less likely their chances grew to catching bigger game and keeping their caches stocked. Ragnar had weathered worse, though, and was confident enough in his abilities to lead them through even the toughest of hardships. The scarred Scandinavian did not know the meaning of the term “give up”. Sacrifices needed to be given, he knew, and it meant that until their adult numbers picked up he could not have children with his Priestess Wife — providing he didn't come to the conclusion that making Nerian his wife wasn't a massive mistake, which the Viking dithered upon quite frequently these days with her seclusion.
Attention, subtly went back to the Spine Queen as she spoke his name, offering him a pretty little part smile. She was young, this Ragnar could tell, perhaps younger even then Thistle. Ragnar didn't bother stating that he did not often make house calls to the neighboring packs, figuring that it didn't need to be said. Alpha's usually sent their Outriders out for missions if they weren't dire, even if the trail had ran cold as it had, likely done. Verrine was busy with his newborns and Ragnar wasn't about to send one of his sons out on this, especially given that he had no idea what kind of danger might present itself in the future. That left the Jarl, who also doubled as an Outrider.
While Ragnar's mind was troubled by the lack of equilibrium between children and adults among his ranks, Cara would've killed to have more wolves --regardless of their age settled in the Spine. The recovery after the fourth change in leadership was hard and bitter. They had become a four-member pack, where the Alphas didn't even adress one another; they ruled side by side but with an unspoken grudge tearing them apart.
The task of lurring members in was harder than she had imagined, especially since the picture in the Spine didn't seem to tempting for those looking for a shelter. Cara was well aware of the menacing reality of disbanding lurking over their heads, and thought it scared her half to death, her heart was still gripping the hope of driving the pack back from its ashes.
She lacked the wisdom and knowledge the Viking carried upon his scars and the years that weighed down his back, but she wore the same courage in her spirit --that stubborn spirit that had brought her victories and defeats.
As the Jarl brought his icy gaze towards her again, Cara felt something tug at the bottom of her stomach. As if she could sense the gravity in his voice before he actually spoke. She kept her calm demeanour until the accusation of one of her wolves attacking another without provocation was thrown at her like a bucket of cold water. She stretched her neck and narrowed her eyes, assesing the seriousness of the situatuation in her mind.
Though she could not prove that his statement was true, she felt like there was no point in calling him a lier -- he wouldn't have bothered to seek her out without even having heard of one another just to point a finger.
Besides.
His description matched one of her wolves.
As he imagined how the scene must've gone, the little hairs along the nape of her neck bristled. It couldn't. Why would he had ever gone and done that?
Had she been blinded by his smile and rockin' body? Had Kaname known something she hadn't all along.
A wave of fury and embarrassment flooded into her head, crashing against the sides of her temple with the strenght of a tsunami. "I know who you're talking about" she barked somberly, feeling the inner walls of her heart writhe upon themselves.
Damn him, and his hypnotizing eyes.
They had charmed her, but now they had doomed him.
Ragnar did not have to wait long after he gave the Spine Queen the description — hoping that if was enough for her — until she somberly spoke that she knew who it was he spoke of. Eyes of carribean ice locked upon her with an expectancy that was not, immediately, or even a few moments later met. The scarred Scandinavian's brow furrowed. So, that was all she was going to say to him? Just that she knew who it was he was speaking of? Nothing more? Not a name, not a question of what Ragnar planned to do to him? Of course the Viking hadn't dared to consider that this Queen would just willingly let him take justice out upon one of her wolves, guilty or not. Frankly, Ragnar didn't care. He would fight the whole damn pack if it meant getting what he wanted, or he would die trying. It wasn't like dying was a bad thing to him, anyway. It meant he would finally be with Odinn and the Valkyries in Valhalla. That was the ultimate goal, anyway. Everything he did was to ensure his place alongside the All-father come Ragnarok.
A million of different voices screamed in her interior, all of them laying out the different options she had in fron of her. She had admitted she knew the white devil, but she was still in time to save his ass -- had she wanted to do so. Or she could just throw him to the cauldron and watch him burn, leave him to the Viking's mercy as he had done with her and the black usurper.
She swallowed with difficulty, not being able to shake away the buried feelings she had once felt for the criminal. Though she knew it was just lust, she could not bring herself to give his name away to the man -- not yet anyways. He spoke after a few minutes rolled by, his words caused her to lift her head and glance at him dubiously.
If she brought Keith's identity into the light she would earn the man's gratitude and probably the satisfaction of having him suffer for ever stepping away; but if she didn't she'd more than likely earn the Viking's animosity. "I do have to inform you he no longer stands among our own -- he left without any words" she barked, suddenly remembering the time Kaname had revealed the two had fought recently.
"He wasn't a role-model here either" she admitted, hinting that the Viking's packmate had not been the only one that had gotten a bad impression of the guy.
A name.
That was the very thing Cara couldn't give away -- but at the same time it was the only thing she knew. Not even Kaname had known where he'd gone (or so he had said). Even if she tried to explain that to her, she was sure she'd give off the impression that she was covering for him..
"He calls himself the Prince of the North," she barked at last, her every word laced with an indifferent coldness. She was not lying but she wasn't telling the truth either..
Ragnar was a patient man, when he wanted to be at least. He was a Berserker first, before he was anything else and it was this that kept the platinum Northman patient. He was born in blood and war, and he would not stop until he had his target, and it was his patience that would allow him to wait and make sure he had the correct wolf. A pointless death would not earn his way into Valhalla, and Ragnar knew it, so it was imperative that he did this correctly as opposed to barging head first into it without doing his research first. The girl told him that he was no longer among their ranks, that he left them without a word. While, initially Ragnar might have been suspicious of those words, he did not challenge them. He felt that she was telling the truth without having, really, any viable proof on the matter. Ragnar didn't care where he had to go to seek justice, simply knew that he wanted to seek it, and he wanted the right man. The Spine Queen continued on with the fact that he wasn't a role model within her pack, either, only furthering Ragnar's previously slight suspicion that she was trying to protect him as much as she could. It was strange, given that he'd abandoned them, and according to her he wasn't an A plus subordinate, either. So, why was she stalling?
Eyes of Caribbean ice narrowed at her. All he wanted was a name, or the name of the pack he had thrown the Spine wolves under the bus for. If he were in her shoes Ragnar would have given all the information he knew away without so much as a regret or an bat of an eyelash. Then again, Ragnar wasn't a soft man and believed that the Gods would punish them in their own way, even if it meant they were allowing another wolf to carry out the deed for them. Then again, Ragnar didn't take abandonment lightly, no matter the excuse given to him.
He would do whatever it took.
Cara felt the fine hairs on the nape of her neck rise as the Viking spoke again. He had every right, plus motives, to think she was covering for him-- which she was--, Cara just didn't think her lie would be blown off so quickly. She had hoped this would give the white cassanova a couple of days more to live without being under the Viking's radar, after all he'd be chasing a presumed Prince that was long gone.
In her mind, she knew the right thing to do was to just spit out the name of the culprit and point out the possible hideout he might be rolling in with that crazy bitch that deserted them to form her own reign. It was unlikely -- to Cara's black & white mind, but it was still a possibility. Keith didn't seem like the kind of guy that joined cults and went around praising random gods; but Bane sure did. And Cara had no knowledge about Bane, or about the 'misfortune' that led Keith out of the Spine and literally had him wash up on the witch's doorstep.
"That's his name. We called him Prince", she barked with a sligh shrug of her shoulders, Ragnar could pick and prod her all he wanted but that was all he was gonna fish out of her for now. Until she figured out a better lie to tell. Keith was a prince alright, not prince charming or a knight it shining armor but he was good looking and bold; two of the main characteristics in Cara's wishlist.
"I really wish I could tell you anything else, but I don't know where he is", that was partly true, but apparently not good enough to soothe the Viking's worry or the bottled anger bubbling in her own chest. "He comes from the North, maybe he went back -- there are a lot of new packs around here, he might've joined one" she barked with a little more serious tone. As much as she hated the idea of letting Keith's 'treason' go by without punishment, she did not want his guts ripped out of that handsome body of his.
In other words, Cara wanted to play with fire and not get burned.
Ragnar couldn't say for sure that she was outright lying to him, but he felt suspicious. A man who had resided in her pack for however long Julooke's attacker had been there, had never told them a name? And required them to call him Prince at that? Ragnar knew that he would have never called a wolf 'Prince', mostly because he wouldn't have been Ragnar's prince and beyond that it truly wasn't a title that Ragnar recognized. Not to mention, having a pack member who was so full of secrets just screamed bad news to Ragnar, but then again obviously this little girl was a very different leader than the Viking. Ragnar chose not to respond to her words, accompanied by the girl's shrug of her shoulders. If she wanted to keep her secrets then fine, but she would come to regret it. Sacrificing her pack for one man, it was a stupid, rookie mistake, in Ragnar's opinion. The Spine Queen's tone rose, taking on an almost snappish tone with him, as if he was irritating her now. All he wanted was answers. Would she not do the same, if the tables were reversed? Would she not have expected him to give up the weasel that had abandoned the pack? But perhaps Ragnar took loyalty more seriously than she did.
Ragnar didn't have anything against the Spine, didn't want to have anything against them, but the scarred Scandinavian was not like to forget this, and he hoped, for her own sake, that she never needed his help. Easily, he could have kept coming back to the Spine, asking different wolves until he got answers that he deemed satisfactory. To pit them against the answers that this young Queen gave him today, to see if they all matched up, but he'd been gone too long from the Bay. His search would have to be continued after he convened with his own Queen. Ragnar would seek revenge for Julooke — with or without this young Queen's help.
last post
Sacrifices shouldn't have been a strange word for the Viking, who through his fierceness and toughness still devoted himself to another. Not as if Cara had devoted her body and soul to Keith, as she would mind but he shouldn't have been surprised. Just as she shouldn't have been shocked when the pale Viking's eyes hardened on her face, a mixture of utter dissapointment and dissaproval hanging from his caribbean glare.
Of course she had wondered, what she would do if the edge of the knife wasn't pointing at her; if it were him the one that tried to hide a secret from her. The young Queen would've surely not forgiven his secresy, and more than likely would've burned all bridges between the two packs -- so naturally that was what she waited for him to say, her nerves consuming the walls of her stomach as he traced his eyes across her face once more.
But Ragnar was better than that -- wiser at the least.
With a sarcastic stab to the Queen he turned to leave, making no spoken threat but failing to give the Queen the certainty that would be the end of the discussion. "Suit yourself" she barked after he turned away, knowing that his manhunt was far from over, and that after his response she might've just added her name to his list.
She sighed and turned to leave too, not knowing that her judgement would come at a high cost later on.