Neverwinter Forest i'm beyond the archetype

I dunno if we wanna make this a IC thread where Kja steps up or not? So I left it all welcome just in case. ^-^

[table width=85%][tr][td]

Kjalarr had been prepared for the idea that he was a father-to-be. He'd fought off Maude, some previously dormant instincts sparking to life at the marrow deep knowledge that he had to protect his seed, his future; but facing the dawning of realization that he actually was a father-to-be was ...the most terrifying thing he'd faced yet. Ondine's morning sickness and increased appetite ...those were the symptoms she assured him and he trusted her words for surely she would be aware if life grew within her or not. He spent mornings between early patrols hunting for the sole purpose of bringing her food. Whether she ate it or not, or ate it and upchucked it he didn't oft stick around to find out. He left her to it while he went on a second patrol.

Patrols had became a means of escape, a place where he could lose himself to routine or alternatively think. How in Hel's name was he supposed to raise kids? He didn't know the first thing about children. Very briefly he'd been around Lusa's children but she and her children hadn't stuck around Saltwinter very long. Admittedly, he had not slept with Ondine for children. Kjalarr was much too selfish for that. He'd only to sought to satisfy the longing and yearning her estrus cycle had intoxicated him with. Yet...he was not by any means unintelligent. He understood the risks, the consequences. Yet... The Gods had ordained that children would come of their coupling and here he was with a mate and babes on the way. Him. A father. A stab of guilt and doubt drove through him. He would be the father they needed him to be, or try to be, at the very least. He had no choice but to try. Abandoning Ondine and the children growing within her was not an option, never even a consideration in his mind.

It was not easy to turn his thoughts from his rugrats growing in Ondine's womb — as he genuinely found himself concerned for her well being as her pregnancy wound on — despite how he struggled to grasp the reality of it. Thoughts of Scimitar joined his worries of being a father. It wasn't like his adoptive father to be gone for so long. It was apparent to him that the prolonged absence concerned Allure, as well. A chill ran down the viking's spine as he considered what would keep Scimitar away from his pack for so long. How long could they go without their leader's presence? Things seemed to be in control for the moment but what happened if a loner caught on? Or a rival pack realized that the throne sat empty of it's king and empty of a substitute? It would spell disaster for Neverwinter. Each worry troubled him more than the last, and despite his initial purpose he found that the borders did not work well to distract him and though he deigned to focus upon his patrol he allowed himself to contemplate what constantly consumed his waking (and sometimes slumbering) thoughts.

[/tr][/td][/table]

Haggard, upset and feeling as though life had been kicking him around for weeks, Shrike left Allure's side for the first time since they had returned to the pack having found both Scimitar and Eshe, drenched in blood and with the life crushed out of them at the hands of what had to have been a bear. His thoughts were with Allure, who had to process the loss she'd suffered, and stay strong for her little brother as well. Rannoch was still missing, so he was sure she'd assumed the worst for her brother as well. All he could do was stay strong, and take care of both Allure and Cypress as well as he could. They were the closest thing he had to family, and they were grieving. He could not be there for his friends in the Caldera, but he could for the new ones he had here in Neverwinter Forest and it helped him cope with his own loss. 

He made his way along the borders and it wasn't long before he saw a tall, pale figure moving along the borders toward him. He lifted his head and chuffed, inhaling the stranger's scent and finding himself relieved to catch the pack's scent about him. This must have been the other newcomer Allure had told him about- he'd been slightly jealous, at first, when he'd heard the fondness in Allure's voice...Until, of course, he was informed that this male came alongside a female who was pregnant. That set his mind at ease and assured him that he did not have competition for Allure's affection. Thank goodness, he thought, as he sized the male up; he was impressive, and attractive- more attractive than he felt he was, so he was relieved to know this male was already taken. 

He bobbed his head in greeting, tail swinging behind him, but couldn't exactly muster a smile. He didn't want to be the bearer of bad news, but he knew it would come up at some point. The pack would have to move forward.

[table width=85%][tr][td]

The greyscale male came into view against the monochrome backdrop around him — and though he would never know it for once his monochromacy portrayed the other male's colors accurately — and Kjalarr's steps slowed to a halt, his muzzle lifting to inhale the air surrounding the other. He was a stranger but Allure's scent mingled heavily with his own. This roused some suspicion within Kjalarr who fancied himself into the role as one of Allure's big brothers. In all the ways that mattered he supposed that he was one of her big brothers. The Frostfur's (with the exception of Floki, of course) were the only family that Kjalarr had left these days. Though he had met with a daughter of Ragnar that claimed to be his eldest littermate Kjalarr still did not remember her and his memory or lack thereof mattered for their meeting had not ended on good terms. Unsurprising to Kjalarr who had accepted that there was something about him that would make his siblings through Ragnar resent him. Whatever the reason Kjalarr didn't care to investigate

“Hello,” Kjalarr greeted the other male with a dip of his head. Without Scimitar's presence to rank them Kjalarr was unsure of where they stood in the hierarchy and so settled for equality without anything distinctive to pull from. “I am Kjalarr,” He introduced himself and hesitated for a moment adding, “er Jorunn. I have long since shed that name but it is the name that my family knows me by. With more pressing and important matters at hand it seemed like an ill time to bring it up.” Eventually he would bring it up but not today and maybe not even in the foreseeable future. Yet it was worth mentioning if only because on the off chance Allure had mentioned him she would have used “Jorunn”.

[/td][/tr][/table]

Kjalarr? Shrike bristled slightly at the name, as it was unfamiliar to him. He had an impeccable memory, especially for names, and would have said something had Kjalarr not continued and replaced that name with Jorunn, and Shrike's mouth opened slighly as he nodded. Yes, he knew that name, and it went along with everything he'd been told- Jorunn, who now called himself Kjalarr, was the male who had come with the pregnant female, Ondine. From what he'd been told, Kjalarr was the adopted son of Scimitar, which made Shrike's heart heavy. He'd heard Allure speak of Jorunn with fondness in her voice, so he'd assumed, then, that she'd accepted him into the family as her father had. He swallowed, quietly, knowing that the news of Scimitar's death would not be taken easily by the male who had been adopted by him. 

He was slightly surprised, then, when Kjalarr spoke of bad timing. His brows furrowed, and he forgot completely about introducing himself. How could this male already know about Eshe and Scimitar? "How did you know?" He asked, suddenly feeling slightly on edge. He reassured himself that Scimitar had not been killed by a wolf, but by a bear, as had Eshe. There was no way Kjalarr could have been responsible for the death. But the news had not yet travelled...As far as he knew, only he, Cypress and Allure knew, as they had been the ones to find the bodies. All of a sudden, the plot thickened, as Shrike overlooked the fact that Kjalarr might have only been referencing Scimitar's disappearance, and Rannoch's as well.

[table width=85%][tr][td]

The question that came from the other male was a very strange one. How did he know what? That Scimitar was absent? He doubted how anyone living in Neverwinter Forest couldn't have noticed it, nevermind that Allure had been forthcoming with the information. If Kjalarr would have found anything amusing given recent events he might have chuckled. As it was, there was a slight raise of his brow as he contemplated it. “Allure told me and Ondine when we arrived that father had left to find our missing little brother,” Kjalarr informed the other male slowly, wondering what was so secretive about it and how it was surprising that he knew of it. Perhaps to those outside of family and Neverwinter it should have been kept hushed from their ears for obvious reasons but for them it was evident and surely word had long since spread. Kjalarr wasn't sure when Scimitar had set out on his mission but he got the feeling that he should have been back by now. His tail flicked against his hind legs as he studied the male again, still (admittedly) confused. "I imagined all of Neverwinter Forest would have known by now." He added contemplatively, his ears slicking to rest at half mast.

[/td][/tr][/table]

For a few moments, things simply didn't add up. There was no way that Allure had told Kjalarr and Ondine- Scimitar would've been missing, not dead when they'd joined...And then things clicked. Shrike's ears flattened and he sighed softly. What Kjalarr meant was that he'd known Scimitar was missing...That was what he'd referred to when he'd mentioned hard times. Shrike regarded the male for a few moments, and though Kjalarr had a heavy, sad tone to his voice when he spoke of Scimitar being missing, he knew it would only get worse. With Allure tucked away in her den to mourn the loss of her father, and Cypress likely doing the same, Shrike was the only one who was capable of being the herald. His ears remained flattened against his head and his eyes dropped. 

"I knew he was missing." He said, then, in a soft voice full of regret. He pulled in a deep breath, and his soft eyes studied the male's creamy paws, and he wondered if he should tell Kjalarr to sit down for the bad news...But those were strong legs he stood on. Kjalarr would have been much closer to Scimitar than Shrike was, so he loathed the words that were lingering on his tongue and had to coax them out on a whispy voice. 

"Allure, Cypress and I went looking." He began, tone flat. "I'm very, very sorry, Kjalarr." He said earnestly. He knew how much it pained both Allure and Cypress, and imagined Kjalarr's pain would be profound as well. "Scimitar and Eshe have passed away. They were killed by a bear." He said. He'd tried to think of a different way to word things, but there was nothing words could do to ease the pain of their meaning. "I'm very sorry. I understand you were close to him."

[table width=85%][tr][td]

Kjalarr did not understand the regret in the other male's voice, his eyes focusing upon him when he admitted that Allure, Cyrpress and him went searching. The lack of Scimitar's presence allowed Kjalarr to assume that he hadn't found him. Yet, if that was so then why was this male apologizing to him? Though the action was strictly subconscious Kjalarr ghosted a step closer, holding his breath his ears thrust forth atop his skull to catch the words that followed. Scimitar and Eshe. Killed. By a bear. At first, the words did not make sense. Kjalarr's ears pinned back to his skull as they formed a coherent meaning in his mind and instead recoiled back the step he had ghosted forward sharply as denial struck him true and deep. His head gave a shake as his tongue drew across his chops. No. No! It couldn't be. Scimitar couldn't be dead and certainly not by a bear. But the third apology slammed Kjalarr back to reality. It made sense as to why he was gone for so long even if his adoptive father's death was like a bullet to the chest — a low blow that if he were a man would have left him hunched over and staggered as he clenched his teeth against the pain.

Kjalarr struggled for a long moment, with his emotions. With the simple question of why. How was it that two adults found death at the mighty paws of a bear but Kjalarr had been fortunate enough to escape with his life the two times he, as a child, had came toe to toe with a bear. The three scars that cut across the bridge of his muzzle echoed with a phantom pain as he recalled both days. Why did the Gods always insist on giving with one hand and taking with the other? Following that came the: what happens next? “Thank you,” Kjalarr offered the male simply when he managed enough composure for it.

“Scimitar found me when I was a child not yet able to take care of myself. I was malnourished and dying when he took me in and gave me a home, a family. I never got the chance to repay him.” but perhaps in death he could yet find a way. “He was the only father I have ever known.” Not meant to be a slight to Ragnar but simply stated as the truth. Scimitar and Bazi had raised him and they were apart of him. In private, to Ondine even, he would surely break down as he further processed the realization that Scimitar was truly gone — as Whittier was — but here and now he struggled to remain composed. Partially because Shrike was a stranger to him and partially because there was an empty throne that needed filled and a sudden desire to do what he couldn't do for Scimitar in life: step up and carry on the legacy that his adoptive father had created for his family in the wake of his death.

[/td][/tr][/table]

Kjalarr was trying to be strong, he got that. And he knew breaking down in front of a stranger wasn't what either of them would have done. Shrike had come close to breaking down in front of Allure, but he'd managed instead to simply be quiet and keep his grief mostly to himself. Now, with Scimitar dead, he had to be strong for both Allure and Cypress. Both had lost their father, and Kjalarr before him had as well, even if he was a father by adoption. A bond was formed- and it was not to be discredited. Kjalarr thanked him and he simply nodded, knowing he didn't have to say 'you're welcome.' He felt bad having to deliver the news, rather than it being Allure- someone he knew, and someone whose pain he could truly relate to. Shrike felt the pain of a loss, but it was mostly an empathetic reaction; he felt Allure's pain, and Cypress', and now Kjalarr's, as well. 

Kjalarr spoke of his connection with Scimitar, and Shrike smiled very faintly. It sounded as though Scimitar had saved Kjalarr's life when he'd been younger- no wonder he felt so connected to the man, then. He would've still been young enough to need a father figure, and Scimitar had stepped into that role. He felt bad, knowing he'd only really even seen the man once- and they hadn't even spoken directly to one another. He'd given an impression, though- that of a man who was poised and responsible, lion-like in regality. "He would be happy to know that you're here, with family, when they need you." He said. Of course, he didn't know Scimitar well enough, but it was a safe assumption nonetheless. "Cypress took it really hard. Allure's back in the den...I think she just wants space right now.," He said, though he knew that he was exempt from that- he was her shoulder to lean on, at the moment.

I hope a Cypress is okay. ♥

The moment he thought Allure was sleeping deeply enough that his absence might go undetected, Cypress Benvolio Frostfur stumbled from the den and shambled numbly in the direction of the blood-drenched field where he’d last seen his parents. Driven by routine rather than impulse, his lantern-yellow eyes were as dull and lifeless as his mother’s had been; his surefooted paws were leaden and caked with blood, soil, and loam; and his proud tail dragged listlessly behind him, carving a wavering brushstroke in his wake. The promise of his father’s stature remained, evident in his gangly framework and broad paws, but despite being midway through the rapid growth period, he felt small. Defeated.

There was no waking dream world for Cypress. He knew his parents would never come back — and he suspected that Lucy and Rannoch were equally lost to him. He did not see the faces of the fallen or missing when he looked at Allure or Shrike — though, to be fair, he couldn’t really see them at all right now. Everything had gone out of focus for the young guardian who had failed in his duty to protect Lucy, keep up with Rannoch, make his father proud, and bring his mother home all in one fell swoop. It was a very empty, lonely place he’d ensconced himself in, going through the motions of survival without any real desire to do so. Sleep had eluded the five month old, as had the release of tears — he merely existed in a state of catatonia that had made a home within the yawning abyss once occupied by Innocence.

His gait was brittle and disjointed as he approached the territory borders, unwittingly intruding upon Kjalarr and Shrike’s conversation. He mightn’t have noticed — but the sound of his name was enough to stop him in his tracks. He wavered on his feet, still standing a good distance away from Kjalarr and Shrike, and his deadened eyes of Eshe’s gold settled dully on some middle distance between the two older males. Instinct shifted his carriage for him — his tail tucked and his ears pinned accordingly — but there was a distracted air about the boy, as though he’d been late to an important appointment of some kind and was patiently enduring whatever interaction was required of him until he could be on his way.

cypress is more than welcome! <3

[table width=85%][tr][td]

“Yes,” Kjalarr murmured in contemplative agreement when Shrike spoke up. He did not feel the unbearing weight of guilt in Scimitar and Eshe's deaths as he had Whittier's but then again he likely could have prevented Whittier's death. Scimitar and Eshe's deaths were out of his grasp. Besides, who would have ever thought that the pair would fall to a bear? Not Kjalarr. Especially not Kjalarr who realized — with a shock like ice cold water tossed upon him unexpectedly — just how utterly fortunate that he'd been the two times he'd evaded near death by bears. He twitched his muzzle again as the phantom pain echoed unwelcoming in the dead nerves of the red, long since healed cicatrices across the bridge of his muzzle. “Losing your father is hard, even if you never really got a chance to meet them.” Kjalarr had lost both of the men that he called father in his life: the Viking King that had sired him and now the King that had raised him and yet Scimitar's death hurt worse than Ragnar's for obvious reasons.

“I will not push my presence upon her but would you mind letting her know that I'm here for her — whatever she needs, whenever she needs it.” Surely Allure already knew that but Kjalarr found that sometimes reassurances of such things were helpful. She was his sister and she was not alone in her grief. It was not one that she burdened alone. “And Cypress too-” Kjalarr had yet to meet his adopted younger brother but even so he would not turn either away if they sought his presence. His lips parted to speak again only to pause when he noticed the presence of a young, dark boy. For a moment, Kjalarr hesitated as he silently gestured to him with his muzzle, hoping that Shrike noted. He was not sure if it was Cypress or one of his cousins. “You can join us, if you'd like.” Kjalarr put out the invitation softly, finding that he had no idea how to speak to children — should he talk them like he would anyone else or like they were an animal easily spooked? Given the way the boy's ears pinned back and his tail tucked Kjalarr opted for an animal easily spooked.

[/td][/tr][/table]

Shrike tilted his head to the side when Kjalarr mentioned never having met a father...He guessed, then, that Kjalarr had been orphaned at a young age, and had been taken in by Scimitar. Obviously, he was pained by the alpha's death, and had meant a lot to Kjalarr, so Shrike respected his grief, and wanted to help him in whatever way he could. He chose not to ask too many questions, figuring it wasn't the place or the time to do so. It might even be better if he simply found the information regarding Kjalarr's past from Allure, so that he didn't have to dredge up any painful memories from the man himself. It would allow him to understand and know Kjalarr better without having to ask him. Kjalarr seemed the kind of wolf who was easily respectable, and Shrike found the way he accepted Scimitar's death to be honourable and poised. 

He was grateful that Kjalarr wouldn't try to approach Allure before she was ready. He seemed to respect Allure's need to be alone, and acknowledged the profound grief she felt. Still, he nodded. Part of him wanted to say that he would be more than capable of providing anything Allure could need, but Kjalarr, known previously to Allure as Jorunn, was likely a close family friend, and would provide that support she needed, considering they would be sharing the same grief. He was about to say that he would, when he caught the scent of Cypress, and turned his head sharply.

The youth looked downtrodden, tired and dirty. He'd been still quiet in the den with Allure when Shrike had left, and he was surprised to see the boy out on his own. His heart ached, to see Cypress wandering out., probably still driven by some purpose that was no more than a phantom. Routine had likely pushed him into action- he'd probably gotten so used to doing everything he could to locate their missing pack members that the habit still remained, despite the fact that Scimitar and Eshe had perished. Kjalarr welcomed Cypress into their presence, and Shrike nodded, padding softly toward the boy to brush his muzzle over the top of his head. He rumbled a fond growl toward the boy, and hoped to distract him. "Let's go mark the borders." He suggested, knowing that if all three of them went around the borders, they would be well reinforced.

Kjalarr was a stranger to the orphaned prince, and for just a fraction of a moment, a question formed within his mind: who are you? His mouth moved to form the words, puckering into a soft “o” — but his shell-shocked brain dismissed the query as unimportant. His ears swiveled with mechanical stiffness to gather in the unfamiliar, accented timbre, and after a beat the rest of him followed suit, gore-spattered limbs rearranging themselves to face the Viking with a mannequin’s rigid lifelessness. Cypress blinked slowly, sallow eyes seeming to focus briefly with a sulphureous spark of awareness, but in no time at all they blurred anew with catatonic disinterest. His expression did not alter when Shrike drew near, but at the epsilon’s gentle touch, the haggard raven’s lungs spent themselves in a shuddering sigh and his lengthening muzzle dipped in weary acquiescence. The fledgling’s battered mind, that treacherous taskmaster, hinted in an insidious whisper that there was no point in marking any borders — winter had come early, taking its king and queen with it, and the forest was no longer a kingdom but a sepulcher instead.

[table width=85%][tr][td]

Cypress had certainly seen better days, which was understandable given what he'd been through recently. For a moment, Kjalarr wondered if that was how he'd looked to Scimitar when he had found him, on the precipice of death, starving and unkempt on the Sound. Granted, Cypress was not starving and he had the whole of Neverwinter Forest to take care of him. “I am Kjalarr ...but our father would have called me Jorunn,” Kjalarr was unsure if Scimitar had ever told his sons about him or not but figured it was worth giving the boy his christened name just in case. It was a name for a boy long dead and it felt foreign as it left the viking's lips. Shrike suggested they go mark the borders and Kjalarr offered a sage nod of agreement. He found that the task of border patrols and marking always helped him to think, and at times, forget when he sought to — even if it was only a temporary fix and thus did not always work at all. Kjalarr strode to the invisible scent line and scraped his paws against the earth, adding his scent to the mixture.

[/td][/tr][/table]

Cypress looked completely downtrodden and reluctant to do anything, but the trio moved along the borders, reinforcing the scented boundaries here and there as they went. Shrike felt a bit uncomfortable, spending time with both the male who'd known Allure longer than he, and her younger brother who was also in mourning. It certainly didn't make for the most stimulating conversation, though he assumed Cypress wouldn't want to talk much at all, less so to a male he didn't seem to know- as Kjalarr soon set about introducing himself. 

"How long have you known Allure for?" He asked Kjalarr then, knowing the information was more for him than Cypress, but perhaps Cypress would take comfort in the fact that the conversation had been shifted away from him and to his sister, with whom he was close. Exactly how close was this Jorunn to Allure? Though he'd made reference to an Ondine, he still had to make sure he had no competition for Allure's affection.

Cypress flinched sharply at the words that fell quietly from Kjalarr’s lips. “Our father,” he’d said, but the only other wolf who had ever said that to Cypress was Rannoch. For a moment, just a whisper of his tightly controlled pain broke surface; a soft, hiccuping sob shook the boy’s body but left his eyes blessedly dry. Swallowing hard, “Why do you have two names?” he wondered aloud in a dry, dusty murmur, turning then to Shrike. “How do you both know Allure?” Cypree was only mildly curious about the answers to his questions; mainly he craved companionship and conversation on a very basic level, whether he realized it or not.

short post is short. :0

[table width=85%][tr][td]

“I was three months old when Scimitar found me and took me in as his own,” Kjalarr responded with Shrike’s question with a soft, fond smile tugging at his lips. “So for most of her life, and mine.” Allure had always been a sister to him, just as her brother’s had become his own. He’d never thought of Allure in any sort of romantic way and he wouldn’t. His gaze and attention slid back to Cypress when his younger brother spoke, asking his own question. “Jorunn was the name that my parents gave me at my birth but I felt that it no longer fit me. So I go by Kjalarr now.” He wasn’t sure why he felt that way. Perhaps rebellion against the family that (mostly) hated him, or because he truly didn’t feel like Jorunn anymore. For the sake of Cypress he didn’t say what he told most people: that Jorunn had drowned in the sea and the boy that had emerged was someone else entirely. He had too much of the Frostfur’s influence having basically been raised by them. He’d still been very impressionable when Scimitar and Bazi had adopted him into their brood. He did not bother to answer Cypress’ second question since he already had by answering Shrike’s question.

[/td][/tr][/table]

Shrike was grateful when Cypress spoke up, asking them both the same question- and he was interested to hear Kjalarr's answer, to find out exactly how far back their relationship went. He tried to put something together in his mind while Kjalarr answered, feeling a slight tinge of jealousy seep into his mind when he said that he'd known Allure for most of her life...It wasn't exactly what Shrike wanted to hear. Kjalarr had already spent more time with Allure than Shrike had, and he wondered what their early relationship had been like. Hopefully they'd regarded each other as siblings...As Shrike wasn't interested in hearing about any childhood crushes or anything of that type. 

"I used to live in Redhawk Caldera." He said, once his turn came around. "Allure lived there for a short period of time, and then left to come here. When Lucy went missing from out pack, I went searching for her, and met Allure on the borders of Neverwinter, and she told me that Lucy had lived here for some time." He said. "Rannoch and Lucy had both disappeared from Neverwinter shortly before I arrived, so we began to search for them together, regularly." And then how to explain the rest of it? "My cousin was the alpha of the Caldera. When he died, I left to come here and be with Allure." He said. He didn't want to point out that he'd been exiled from the pack because he'd refused to mate with his cousin's widow, and felt it was prudent to leave that detail out, regardless.

[makes things uncomfortable for everyone, cackles maniacally]

Interest flickered dully as Kjalarr spoke of his relationship with Scimitar and Allure, and Cypress wondered at the weird sensation of conflict that threatened to tear him in two. On some level, he was truly interested in what Kjalarr and Shrike had to say — and the quickening of his heartbeat at the thought of new names and wild adventures revealed that the very small boy who had wanted to be a hero and slay all of Lucy, Eshe, and Allure’s dragons alongside Rannoch and Scimitar had not died in that bloodied meadow. There was another part of him, though, that stamped down that brief flicker of excitement, calling it ugly and unfair: guilt. How could he find joy in life when his parents — and likely his only littermate and best friend, too — were dead?

Hearing the names on repeat — Scimitar, Rannoch, Lucy, — was agonizing, and Cypress stopped in his tracks at the physical pain that stabbed through him. He wasn’t going to cry in front of the two older males — he wasn’t a baby — but his breathing grew rapid and uneven even against his greatest efforts. “Did you know L-L-Lucy’s — ” he paused to steady himself “ — mama and paw, Shrike?” he asked, swallowing hard. He didn’t know why it felt so good to talk about things that made him sad; Eshe and Scimitar had never had to give their gently-reared sons grief counseling, after all. Then, recalling the information he’d just gleaned: “I’m sorry your cousin died,” he said more softly, his voice still dry and dusty and somewhat stoic. “I didn’t know that’s why you came here. I thought you just came because Allure likes you and wanted you to.” Unaware that he’d potentially dropped a bomb of some kind, Cypress went ahead and dropped another one: “what’re we going to do without my — without — ” Biting his tongue, he pushed out the words that hurt the most:

“ — if the forest has no king and queen anymore.”

short post is short and poopy. :-(

[table width=85%][tr][td]

Kjalarr listened as Shrike told his story offering the other male his respectful and rapt attention, admittedly, just as curious to hear his story as Cypress was. Kjalarr tended to be a selfish beast most of the time but that did not mean that he was not curious and interested in the origins of other’s. Knowing his pack mates could only serve to benefit him. He already knew the Frostfur’s via his adoption into their family but all the others of Neverwinter Forest were unknowns to the viking and this could be the start to remedy that. To get to know them and offer them the chance to get to know him, in turn. Cypress spoke then, as Shrike’s story was more for his benefit that Kjalarr’s own, asking the other male some questions. And then came the question that was likely on everyone’s mind though it drew a wince from the Viking who heard the pain in his younger brother’s voice and his ears slicked back to rest lightly against the strong crown of his skull, his weight shifting from paw to paw. “Someone will have to step up,” Kjalarr spoke the words gently. He’d considered it, considered taking the throne if only because he had experience. “Not to take Scimitar’s place, of course. No one can ever replace our father,” Kjalarr assured Cypress, his gaze flickering from the young boy to Shrike and then back again. “but Neverwinter needs a leader.” Or else all the work Scimitar put into Neverwinter Forest would be for naught and would go to ruin. Kjalarr wasn't willing to idly stand by and see that happen even if his plan to ascend was unpopular.

[/td][/tr][/table]

The question Cypress posed caused Shrike to pause; he sounded almost fearful, saddened by the fact that Lucy's parents had experienced such a loss. It was obvious that Cypress had known Lucy and that he had cared about her- and her disappearance had also likely led to the disappearance of his own brother, so closely were their fates intertwined. Calmly, Shrike nodded his head. "Elwood and Finley, yes. They're good wolves, and they're still searching too." He said. One of the last promises he'd made was to keep searching, and he still intermittantly met up with Elwood to see if any signs had been found. Shrike did not quickly give up on a quest, nor did he like to break his promises. 

Cypress expressed sympathy and Shrike nodded his head gratefully, and would have spoken about Peregrine had the youth not then gone on to speak about Allure. The comments the young man had made Shrike's cheeks burn- not because of embarassment, but because it was extremely flattering to hear that Cypress thought Allure liked him. Where had he head that- had she told him, had someone else told him, or was he simply making an observation? He paused for a moment, before he abashedly nodded slightly, a worn but still faintly pleased smile tugging gently at the corners of his mouth. "In part, yes," He said, and left it at that. Allure wanted him there? Even better. 

Cypress then brought up the important point of the heirarchy of the pack, and Kjalarr made a valid point; others would have to step up. The tone of his voice told Shrike that he fancied he might do so himself. Shrike was not the sort to have the ambition of leading himself, and knew that he would have to tend to Allure as well as he could. She, the highest ranked wolf in the pack, needed time to grieve without being saddled with responsibility. To Kjalarr, he nodded, silently.

Wrap up, my loves? ♥

A second sob, fragile and cracking, worked its way up the column of Cypress’ throat, but he swallowed it down with visible physical effort, his narrow skull stretching forward as though he was gripped with an acute wave of torticollis. He wanted to protest that Elwood and Finley were not good wolves — could not have possibly been good enough if they’d lost something as precious as Lucy — and then he realized that he, too, had lost her. The pain was crippling and he fell again into a troubled silence as he tried to weather the storm of his own making that seemed to have no discernible outlet. No matter what Kjalarr and Shrike decided, the outcome was the same: Neverwinter Forest would never be the same.