Neverwinter Forest So, what's the problem?

@Cypress ♥

Ondine was early to rise yet again, stuffing some more dried moss inside the den for Kjalarr and Arrille to enjoy before departing the Sleeping Circle. She went west then, completely missing the Western Flowerbeds to leave the territory for a small while. She did not go far - too worried things might get hot if she were to be gone for longer than an hour or so, and caught a rabbit. It was a slender creature, probably starving due to the lack of food anyway, and the siren was glad she had put the poor thing out of its misery. She then returned to her shared den, feeding Arrille some of the regurgitated rabbit meat and nuzzling her husband for a short while. It was a brief moment of peace before she went ahead to do what was expected of her now - provide and keep everyone safe. She still had to meet a lot of folks, but surely her warm personality would get them warmed up to her quite easily.

She padded around the Gathering Stump, which she still found to be a dumb name, toward the Eastern Waters where she wanted to relax. With Kjalarr on the side lines and no one truly by her side, life had become a whole lot harder. Surely not as hard as some others in the pack dealing with their losses and trying to move on. She wished she could help them - especially the young who were either left without parents or without a great part of the wolves they loved.

She sat near the edge of the swamp, ignoring the scent and the poor state of the ice she had hoped to skate upon before the winter went away. She promised herself to do that next year, if she had not been thrown out or replaced by then by someone younger or hotter - or both. For now, everything was tinged with a bitter sadness that she wished to replace with comfort.

♥!

The poor state of the ice was unmistakably due to Cypress’ therapeutic decimation of it only hours prior, and he still hadn’t vacated the premises. The stygian eidolon, having fallen into a fitful doze, opened his sulphureous eyes at the soft crunch of Ondine’s paws in the snow and materialized from the shadows on the opposite end of the mire. The very sight of her filled him with a tumult of emotion he didn’t know how to handle gracefully, and the knotted state of his nerves mirrored itself in his posture: he faced her defiantly, all sharp angles and jutting planes, the set of his forepaws at a slight diagonal to his hindquarters. His tail stuck out stiffly behind him, its obsidian tip just beginning to curl uncertainly skyward, and the high arch of his broad shoulders was accentuated by the wild, silver-tipped mane that bristled into quill-like hackles. Cypress’ grimacing mouth twisted with a virulent snarl, but he didn’t loose the growl that tangled thickly in his throat; he merely stared at her as if by doing so, he could thrust her from his sight.

It did not take long for the peace to be disturbed - a young man (she'd say around Rian's age, but was not quite sure) of a dark colouration soon joined her. She raised a brow at his sudden appearance, staring straight into his own, peering eyes for a small moment. Was he... challenging her? She smiled sweetly at him, founding the whole situation to be quite silly. She raised her body - her towering form far from what would be considered "feminine". Never did her smile waver as her tail wagged as a flag proudly up and behind.

Good morning to you, young man. She greeted, knowing well how to handle a struggling teen now that she had tried two times. Everything was bound to start with violence, but soon that violence would break one of them - and it was not going to be her. She had made it her mission to turn confusion and anger into comfort, and was not going to give up her quest so soon.

The female — he could not think of her as his sister — pointedly elevated her carriage, rising to her full height and fixing her supposed subordinate with a saccharine smile of questionable construct. Cypress remained impassive, one tall, sharp ear winging awry in a physical manifestation of his desire to deflect what he perceived to be condescension in her tone. Inside the boy was a pool of quiet, cold calm; he sank into it, watching the dark whorl of his emotions from a safe place undersea, and maintained his sulphureous stare without blinking. At just over six months old, he still had about half a year of skeletal growth to look forward to, and the hardships leading up to and encompassing his first winter had cut him into hard-bitten lines and jutting angles. Still, even without the wild, tousled briars of his stygian fur, Cypress wouldn’t have appeared weedy or gangly. He lacked the “filled out” appearance of an adult wolf, but at this stage of the game he was already taller than his cousins and just as steely-muscled. The winter had been frigid and miserable, but it hadn’t been lean by any means. Defiant still, he stopped just short of an unforgivable transgression, his lips kept tightly tucked over his teeth and the marred line of his mouth stoic.

He did not react. For a moment was the siren taken aback by the stoic ways the young man seemed to handle this situation, but not for long. Her brows formed a concerned bunch of soft wrinkles on her forehead - her friendly smile wavering slightly as she stood there. Her neck retreated to a higher place above her shoulder, head bent down slightly to look at the male for a while. A long sigh escaped her mouth as her eyes wandered the scenery around them.

Is there something wrong? She asked gently. She doubted the young man would tell her exactly what was going on, but the least she could do was try.

Enough is enough. There it was again — the sweet, venomous voice that had encouraged Cypress to denounce his brother. The young wolf’s powerful hindquarters bunched in readiness to spring — his mind, he felt, was made up — but before he could give in to the visceral desire to bulldoze his sister-in-law to the ground, he stopped. Drew a slow, steadying breath. Maintained his sinister, sulphureous stare.

It was Ondine who looked away first.

Cypress watched with dizzying triumph as the water witch’s mismatched eyes slewed away from his to meander across the scenery with feigned nonchalance. “This is Scimitar’s forest,” he informed her in a seething growl, tousled fur bristling as he emerged from the marsh reeds and rose to his full height. Deliberately, he lifted his regal head and straightened his carriage, his tail curling high and proud above his back. Sharp ears, tall and set close together, shot forward upon his skull as his lips began to curl, revealing the unsullied alabaster of his fangs. A low, menacing rumble churned in his gut and bubbled up to break through the razor-edged prison of his teeth. It hurt unbearably to see this female — this outsider — in Eshe’s place. Ondine was a mother and mate to Kjalarr — but Neverwinter’s queen? Never. That title, Cypress felt, would always belong to Eshe. In a twisted way, it was her honor he sought to defend.

Mama, why? Why’d you hafta —

Somehow, seeing Kjalarr upon Scimitar’s throne had hurt less than this.

Cypress’ next thought pained him all the more: Rannoch would stand with me.

He pissed the mama-bear off XD ♥

His words brought a frown upon her pretty face - not a fan of the dominance he  was claiming right before her eyes. She inched closer carefully, lowering her head to protect her neck and look at him better - following his movements and placing her own soft tail curled atop her back. She did not ask for much; just the slightest sliver of respect as she had taken on the burden of providing for their matter all by herself. She did so with joy, for sure, but just because she enjoyed it did not mean that it was easy and deserved no praise.

Scimitar is dead. The words left her mouth in a cold yet caring way, eyes twinkling with bitter sadness for all who had been affected by the fact. His own tone brought her silvery hackles to rise while keeping a restrained posture. She wanted to avoid a fight but she would not allow the bitterness of the boy drive him against her. You'd rather watch as your family starves or gets murdered by some other pack without an experienced leader? Be my guest. While certainly against treating others the way she was treating Cypress now, she knew that it sometimes was necessary to be rather rude. She was protecting - providing for the wolves of Neverwinter. She spent her days walking the borders instead of being with her son and husband. She was trying her very best and, frankly, she found that she deserved some more respect - even if she were in the spot of a dead man that couldn't do anything for the pack anymore.

>:D ♥ He’s a young upstart, for sure!

The last Frostfur watched with detached fascination as Ondine inched closer, lowering her muzzle in turn to protect the soft hollows of her throat. What would happen, he wondered morbidly, if he broke the cardinal rule and attacked Kjalarr’s mate? Eshe would have been disappointed in him — and utterly heartbroken that her son had stooped to such cruelty — but Eshe wasn’t here anymore, and it was her place he was defending. Scimitar would have been gravely upset and angry with his son — but, as Ondine had reiterated so succinctly, Scimitar was dead. It occurred to Cypress for the first time that he didn’t have to answer to anyone. Kjalarr had immersed himself in fatherhood, and Cypress’ discomfort in Arrille and Ondine’s presence kept him from visiting. Too, the gargoyle felt a certain betrayal that Kjalarr had placed his mate at the figurehead of Neverwinter — she, who had no relation to Scimitar and could not hope to understand the history of these evergreens. Torgeir seemed very far away to the boy now.

Doubt hummed through his steely musculature. Maybe Rannoch wouldn’t have agreed with his elder brother’s actions. The boys had been taught to act like gentlemen — to respect their elders and their betters. Still, the raven was dogged by a feeling that what he was doing was noble in some way. He’d rather defend Eshe’s honor and die trying than let Ondine skate to a position of dominance over him without ever knowing the beauty of the former queen’s golden eyes. Breaking his silence in earnest at last, “My family already got murdered,” Cypress retorted flatly in a cutting snarl, lifting a brow at the paltry female without breaking his eye contact as he advanced another step nearer. He made to rip apart her taunt in a series of cold, calculated points: “Winter wasn’t lean — just cold. There’s meat enough in the caches to last until the game returns. I know it because I’ve been putting it there — and it won’t spoil in this weather. You are worth nothing here. The only reason you’re a ‘leader’ is because Kjalarr said so. You haven’t earned anything.” Kjalarr’s word meant a great deal to the young wolf, and it hurt to know he was burning a very significant bridge by defying Ondine, but Cypress couldn’t help it.

Maintaining his insubordinate posture and his fierce, sulphureous stare, he waited for the storm.

No, she did not know the story behind the forest or its inhabitants. No one had cared enough about her or the well-being of their so-called home to tell her anything but Rian. No one but the young, heartbroken man had gone out of their way to help her even a little. She could not depend on Kjalarr, not on her son and it became very apparent that the wolves she was trying to protect were not worth counting on either. Sometimes, she wondered why she was even trying. She hadn't been raised very well (if at all) so that couldn't be it. She was a self-taught EVERYTHING and she was not about to be disrespected by a boy thinking he was a man worthy of praise.

Well - I guess you've got nothing to live for anymore then, hm? She questioned, eyes staring straight into his. Guess you don't have to respect anyone anymore. She was being mean for the better, right? She had to get this through his thick skull; break him before building him up again. It had gone that way with Rian... Then again, they were two very different wolves.

I earned my life - I earned my way. Life isn't nice to anyone, kid, and one day you'll understand that not everything is sea and sunshine. Life takes work and time. She snarled, holding her dominant posture, silently praying she could get through to him.

Cypress barked a laugh at the paltry female’s sardonic rejoinder. He perceived a childish petulance in the way she veered wildly off topic, spouting her platitudes while her pretty lips contorted into a mean-tempered snarl. “You’re wrong,” he drawled calmly, a mirthless smile flickering fleetingly across his sinister mien. “I have respect for plenty of wolves — I just don’t have any for you.” If Ondine believed her petty insults could “break” the eidolon, she was wrong. He’d been broken by forces greater and more powerful than she could ever hope to be. He had earned his life. He had earned his way. For the water witch to suggest anything otherwise was brazenly ignorant, and the chuckle that spilled from Cypress’ lips was shocked out of him with honest amusement. “Oh,” he said, his hackles beginning to spike in earnest as saliva pooled beneath his tongue, “I see.” Ondine had limned each syllable in pyrite, but once he scratched the surface —

“Life sure hasn’t been nice to you, has it? Must be rough — riding someone else’s coattails so you could squeeze your way into a pack before winter, watching your whelp grow fat and round on other wolves’ caches, taking up a mantle that you don’t deserve and can’t fit — now that’s a crying shame.” Cypress took a step forward, the muscles in his hindquarters tautening as his shoulders arched forward and his muzzle dipped low. His sulphureous eyes never left the false queen’s mismatched ones. “Let me tell you something, might help you figure out where you’ve gone wrong.”

The simmering growl that backed his quiet baritenor broke free as he made his point crystal clear: “This pack doesn’t need you. It’s you who needs this pack. That’s how it’s always been. You’re a mouth to feed — a loud mouth that never quits — but when you’re dead and buried, nobody’ll remember you the way they remembered Scimitar and Eshe.” He snapped at the air before her, fangs flashing as a string of spittle gnashed from his grinning mouth — a warning. “Now get away from me.”

Ondine, not one to accept insubordination to such a blatant degree, demanded that Cypress stand down — but he is a brat and refused to. Then he went GRAWRAWERIUAWE and she went AIOWYERQIWUEORQWER and ultimately she beat the beans out of him, and he slunk back off to the swamp to lick his wounds like a scrawny ogre.