Redtail Rise What do I stand for

OK all done, open to anyone. tagging @Ukko just in case you wanna ~spontaneously~ encounter tavi.

She did not know where she was, how she got there, or why. The rage within Tavi had worn away to a persistent little ache in the back of her mind like an itch, and she wanted desperately to scratch that itch, but there was no way to reach it. It was almost like a nagging sensation that she should be somewhere; that she needed to be doing something; that something was being forgotten. But she'd already forgotten so much — such as why she'd come this far from home. Or, from time to time, where home even was. Parts of her said, just over that ridge! And another feeling pulled her towards the clusters of trees, as if a foray around one specific copse would bring her somewhere familiar; that the forest itself was her home, and not the ridge, and not the mountain.

Thoughts of her son and of the Keep, even Stark or Reek, had vanished. She paced up the ridge with her body sunken low, head almost dragging between her shoulders, and she... was searching.  Or so she believed. For what? No idea. The home she had left behind? In which case — which home? The woman occasionally lifted her head to sniff the air, detecting the faint aroma of maple and feeling her heart beat quicken; then there would be pine and the stale petrichor of an oncoming storm, and things would be muddied again. Tavi eventually found her way to an outcropping of exposed bedrock, and just as she hunkered down against the jagged, spine-like array of jutting stones, the sky broke open and began to weep above her head.

Maybe, had she been in her right mind, she would be weeping too — for she had suffered some sort of great loss, and yet she couldn't recall how it had transpired, or what exact piece of her mind had gone missing. She knew there was something off, that she was tired, but was unable to fully grasp the situation anymore. Her departure from the Keep had been in a fit of rage, yes, but it had been the catalyst for a shift within her very psyche, and now the woman was left to silently reflect upon the newness of her self without proper understanding. She felt the rain, smelt the changes upon the wind, and had the strangest desire to lift her head and call out - to sing, to howl, perhaps to mourn - but Tavi had forgotten how to do that too.

Sometimes, Hiram would go to the mountaintop to pray. It was from there that he was closest to God. Though the sky was darkened by thick rainclouds, blocking the light of Raas from the earth, still he went. He had yet to give thanks to the Lord for returning his children to him -- and to thank him for the possibility of more. Their young souls would be pledged to the Lord and his covenant with God would be honored.

And so, even in the rain, the father of nations marched onward up the rocky face of mountain to give his thanks. The peak loomed before him, obstructed by a misty fog. The fresh scent of rain clouded his senses. There was a figure in the distance. Grey and nearly indistinguishable from the rest of his surroundings. He had yet to recognize the woman who broke his heart many months ago -- and so, he simply chuffed in the way he would greet a stranger.

This was what she had sought all along, yet when presented with it - with him - there wasn't a single flicker of recognition. The rage that had flared while she had been with Stark had since been quelled, perhaps doused by the rain which now soaked through her coat. The being that stood before her was a shadow and she knew, somehow, that this was not a good thing; that he was a malevolent force, or maybe that she should not be here — or should not be, period — and yet, Octavia could not move.

He called to her, and she thought to slink towards him, investigating as a child might, but only managed to lift her head a few inches. A shiver shot through her then, coursing up her spine, and seemed to take root at the base of her skull. The sensation made the hair across her body stand tall where it wasn't dampened, although the rain made short work out of that. He was not a familiar being to her, not now. There was too much different about him — and about her — so she was curious, but did not know how to proceed. Her limbs did not want to move despite her insistence in telling them, lift, step, and at most she leaned closer, and because of gravity and the need to resist falling on her face, her feet finally moved to accomodate the gradual lean.

The small movement disturbed a stone which clattered away from her, catching on a tree root, and then came to a rest a few feet from him. The dry side sat exposed like an offering to him, or to the rain maybe, and soon enough the pitter-patter of the heavy rain embellished the faint blue and gray of the rock. She glanced at it briefly. Mystified by the shifting colors, as if dreaming, and then up to his face, and for just one second she thought she knew him, but it wasn't enough.

With a clack and a clatter, a stone rolled down before Hiram's feet. His gaze followed from the woman to the rock, and there it stayed as it came to rest a few feet away. He inched forward and pressed his nose against the flat edge of the stone. It was cool to the touch, but so was everything else that was touched by the rain. He sniffed, but it was only a rock. Pulling back, he lifted his head to the wolf who had sent it rolling. It was then that the wheel of recognition began to turn.

He stepped forward. "Tav?" He muttered in disbelief. It had been so long since he had seen her. There was so much he wanted to say -- so much he wanted to make right, but all he could ask was, "Tavi, is that really you?"

Was this home? It felt familiar, somewhere. He seemed familiar too, but not enough, so she stepped awkwardly forward, squinting at him through the rain. This dark thing that at first wasn't even a wolf, but a shadow. Somewhat amorphous because of the gray of the sky around him, and the wet darkness at their feet. When he spoke she felt her eyes go wide but for no real reason, because the sound of his voice wasn't a frightening thing, although the name meant nothing to her at this point. Whatever hallucinations had been plaguing the poor woman up to this point, nothing would compare to her future visions — and for now, she was more lucid, yet still had trouble comprehending.

In her mind she said, Reek? What are you doing here? And then, hearing no response except for the falling of the rain, she frowned and pulled away, as if to leave him to his own devices beneath the billowing sky. She made it a few steps before growing weary, or maybe it was her body's way of telling her, slow down, because she'd been roaming for hours on end, and if she didn't pause from time to time she would surely fall apart. Tavi stopped, her ears turned towards the dark figure in case he spoke further, and then abruptly blurted, I know this, which likely made as much sense to Reek as it did to herself.

Without a word, Tavi turned to walk out of Reek's life a second time -- albeit, this time the pain was not a severe. In truth, the sting of Tavi's departure had faded with time, but somewhere in Cardinal's heart, he would always hold a place for her. When he had lost his family, she became his home. The time they shared together had been brief, but Tavi had been important, thus forever making her mark in the man's heart.

He didn't want to let her go. No, he wanted to fill the air with apologies. He wanted to ask about Tam. Anything but let her go. No sound however passed his lips, he simply stared blankly and listened to the rain fall around him. But then, she turned and spoke. The Cardinal's brow furrowed with confusion. "What?" He asked, unsure of her meaning. Of course she knew this. She was near the Grotto. This was her home.

Was he following her? For a split second she forgot who was behind her, even though she looked right at him. She forgot who Reek was, what they'd had, all of it — but there wasn't much there for her to remember, not anymore. She saw him and watched his lips move, saw the incredulous expression on his face, and couldn't understand it. She squinted, glaring at him as if he were a piece of the mountain made in to something alive, something that shouldn't exist, and then turned from him and began to walk again.

Once more, she got a few steps - near to a sapling that was growing crookedly from a segment of the ridge - and as she brushed by it, pine needles scattered at the ground. She bumbled through, catching the little tree with her swaying tail, and felt it pull back then spring up to attention. The sound disturbed her, and so Tavi paused and turned abruptly, shooting more glares towards the sapling as if the poor little tree was the source of al her confusion — and just beyond that, Reek, who she'd forgotten.

Told you, she shot out at him sharply, tasting the rain on her lips and the sudden heat of fever and rage as it colored her cheeks, He's mine, you.. Not his, mine, but the more she spoke, the less sense she made, until she was just murmuring sounds. The dark figure had stopped being Reek and had turned in to Stark now, another head upon the leviathan living inside her mind. For a few second Tavi was reliving her last conversation with the swarthy man, and it reignited something inside of her.

Safe with... safe. He's safe. Except, had Tavi been at all herself, she'd have realized the magnitude of that lie.

His confusion knew no bounds as her gaze turned hot and angry for seemingly no reason. Hiram's ears fell flat against his head and he whined, feeling her anger to be unwanted -- but really was it? It had been his fault that she had left the grotto. His obsession with both the safety of the grotto and wolves remaining the maplewood had driven her away. I'm sorry, he wanted to say. I'm so, so sorry. 

But, before he could open his mouth she was walking away again. She made it a few steps before stopping in place, but this time her nonsensical speech became angry. Hiram stepped back. Obviously, the woman had gone mad... stark raving mad. He shook his head, believing it to be his own fault. If she had stayed in the grotto, maybe this wouldn't have happened to her. Maybe her mental state wouldn't have been so fragile. Hiram blamed himself.

"I'm so sorry this has happened to you," he finally said, looking upon her with earnest. Once again, he had no idea what the meaning behind her words was, but could only assume it pertained to Tambourine -- his only son. "Who's safe? What are you talking about?" Even still, Hiram didn't even know if his former lover was lucid enough to reply in a coherent manner.

He moved closer, and she turned so sharply to face him that it was surprising to see her not fall, not falter even, and her eyes were filled with all manner of strangeness. There was pain there, and confusion, and the burn of anger, yet when he spoke and his questions hit her ears, all of that evaporated. Tavi squinted at him for a second as if trying to make sense of a shadow puppet, and then shook her head as if to say, no, this isn't happening, I'm talking to myself. It felt that way.

But the questions did sink in. She did understand, somehow, and let out a small pffft, like he had just asked the dumbest question ever. The.. the, the, you kn-know, another little huff, as she tries to get the words out, but her mouth doesn't want to obey; she tries to swallow them, licks her lips, but her mouth and throat are dry and nothing is working the way it should. With another shake of her head she offers up more fragments: Him? My -- Tambourine, my little -- him! Ugh, but it was too frustrating.

As soon as Tavi managed to get that name out, she huffed and puffed, sighing with audible irritation, and then shot Reek with more daggers. There was a hesitation and then clarity, though it was brief: Looks like you, but -- but you can't see it, him, he... And the other one -- !!! Oh no, the other, her brain lurched and seemed to freeze up for a second or two, and she looked with absolute horror at Reek, although it wasn't really the dark man that was causing this shift in her madness: she was remembering the other boy, the first, the one she'd eaten, the one she'd failed, and somehow she knew she had just admitted it.

Tavi sucked in a breath, having forgotten to use her lungs when the shock of her announcement flooded out of her, and she staggered back, slipping in the mud at her hocks and meeting the mess at her feet. She choked out a little sob then, and stared down at the soil, imagining the boy's little body and -- and then imagined, or hallucinated, seeing Reek's shadow sliding closer to her.

To say Hiram was unsettled would be a gross understatement. Her words, though nearly nonsensical, creeped underneath his skin and chilled him to the bone. He feared for Tambourine -- for his safety. He could not trust Tavi, not in this state she was in, to take care of him proper. He needed a parent, not a loon. Hiram took another step forward toward the woman who once held his heart and opened his mouth to speak, but before a sound passed his lips he felt another blow right to his gut.

There had been another.

Nova had only spoke of one child: of Tambourine. His brow furrowed. "Another?" He asked, disbelieving. However, her broken speech was simply the ramblings of a madwoman, and thus, not to be trusted. "Where is my boy?" Spoke the Cardinal sternly. She needed to tell him, and he -- he needed to save him.

Last from me. Sorry for taking so long!

The darkness that was Reek slid towards her, and she knew somewhere in her addled head that the shadow was not part of the beast itself, yet somehow they became knitted together; and when he opened his mouth to speak, so too did the shadow. When his exasperated tone reached her ears, she felt the words like ice, and from two mouthes it came. Adding this hallucination to her feelings of judgement, fear, and overall detachment from her normal self, and Tavi was gone; she vacated her mental nest and flew out of there, leaving a sobbing mess behind. And when Reek questioned her about Tambourine that final time, something small snapped within her - maybe the last of herself - and her body reacted with flight. With a cry of despair she stumbled back from Reek's approaching figure, and then tore off in to the wilderness, eager to be away from him perhaps or to find her son (but most likely neither, as things had become utterly unfathomable).

No worries!

Just as the Cardinal expected, he recieved no answer and his worries for his unknown son went wild. He needed to pry something from Tavi's maddened mind, but he found himself unable -- she ran. Fleeing fast into the dark grey of the storm, Hiram had no chance to pursue. "Tavi, wait!" He shouted, yet his voice was drowned out by a loud thunder clap.

Soon, the mother of his child had faded into the haze -- having left him for the second, and likely the last time. "Wait—" he muttered, this time his voice was softer and twinged with both heartache and worry. There was nothing he could do; nothing he ever could.

She was gone.