Dragoncrest Cliffs anger is the more productive cousin of fear

set directly after this thread, thanks for the thread title cruz haha

like her ill-fated brother, blixen's been patrolling - though she'd been up by the northern end of the border. she'd corralled her friend @Furi into joining her in an attempt to show the meditative joy of maintaining border strength, though all was quiet up where they were as they moved slowly southward.

(like her brother, she's also been really itchy, though she is determined to not stop and scratch every few minutes lest it lower her guard. but that's another thing.)

things were for her brother apparently decidedly not quiet. she hears the scuffle before she sees them and takes off running without a second glance at her companion. for a moment she thinks dio - thank god, he's got it - but then the scene processes and she realises it's artaax. @Artaax with his jaws closed around the throat of some half-starved stranger, artaax's blood mixed in the fray.

by the time she gets there the enemy is already dead. good: she throws herself bodily into artaax's side, paying no mind to his injuries, her expression a scorching blaze. "what the fuck?!"

She’d been roped up in border duty once more but this time she has more pleasant company than if she were alone. Or with Eske. She doesn’t think about it. She only gives Blixen a little reluctance but knowing the whole time she’ll agree and easily she falls into place. Further down the line, things grow quiet but it isn’t uncomfortable. She is reminded of Étoille and her comfort with him in silence, but eventually she lingers to the similar feeling with Artaax.

Furi wrinkles her nose.

After a while, she casts a glance to the side to look at the fiery girl. Her mouth opens to speak but all her thoughts are wiped from mind as Blixen darts ahead with ease. Furi is left stuck in her dust. It takes a few seconds to get herself into gear, trailing up the flame of red toward her brother but she slows to a stop well before she collides into anyone but in time to hear Blxien shout.

In attempting to recall the details later, Artaax would never be able to say just how long he had stood over the dead wolf's body with its throat clutched in his teeth. Realization was slow to seep into his consciousness, but as it did, he felt his legs begin to tremble and his eyes widen from shock and fear. Until that moment, it was as though he had't been present for what had just transpired upon Drageda's borders. But, in time, reality flooded in and he knew. He had killed someone. He had killed someone.

He had barely released his hold on the stranger's torn flesh when Blixen came barreling onto the scene. He shifted his gaze to see her coming in the last instant before the collision, staggering back a few inches from her weight and the weakness in his own limbs. His breathing quickened as she screeched at him, and he found he could not reconcile her question with any potential answer. Instead, he focused only on the realization of what he had just done, and so his response was a stammer in defense of that act.

"He.. He crossed our borders. He was trespassing. He wouldn't stop," Artaax answered, blinking at his sister with desperation written upon his face for her to name the dark wolf's act as a crime, and not say that of the murder he had committed.

belatedly she registers the severity of his injury and pulls back from him, just enough to examine it. they need portia, they need nomi, oh, hell. she is furious.

"you should have called," she says, voice wretched, "you could have been killed, art -" and of course she doesn't judge him for the death of a nameless stranger who threatened their home, that's not why she burns white-hot. it doesn't even occur to her that he would - and, well, she's never killed anyone. she takes a deep breath.

"furi, get portia and nomi," blix barks, not taking her eyes off her brother's shoulder.

Furi has frozen in place as she realizes what happened. It’s a wolf dead at Artaax’s feet and her green eyes lock on the form. The metallic scent of blood clogs her nose in addition to everything unpleasant about it. It’s the second dead body she’s seen in her life—in Drageda. She blinks slowly, staring at the corpse until Blixen’s voice rattles her brain and she shakes, turning to look at the pair. It takes several seconds for the command to register and she staggers a few steps away, though she doesn’t know why. “Heda?” she asks, recollecting the connection from the other day but it makes the most sense and she doesn’t waste time waiting for an answer. She doesn’t expect one either.

Everything zeroes in quickly and she steels herself, lifting her nose to call. She sucks in a breath and lets her voice loose for the Heda and @Portia. Worried they do not know the sound of her voice, she addresses the urgency with a second howl before she spins back around and stands to the side, waiting for a second instruction.

Artaax had yet to notice he was bleeding. He wasn't even fully aware that Blixen was actually angry with him. His gaze had drifted back down to the dead body at their paws with its gaping jaws and dead, staring eyes. He felt sick. His mouth began to water as his gorge rose and he licked his lips anxiously as he began to back away. He went a few steps before pain suddenly lanced through his shoulder and he dropped to his haunches, leaning his weight onto his uninjured leg. Only then did he look away from the wide-eyed carcass, setting his gaze instead on the blood that smeared his pale coat.

A howl broke through the muffled pounding in his ears, drawing his attention back to his packmates. Artaax hadn't noticed that Furi was there too, but his heart thrummed with desperate longing again as he heard summons for nomi in her song. His physical hurts were nothing to him. There were a few scratches across his sides and underbelly where the trespasser had caught him in his thrashing and every other part of his frame felt bruised, but he didn't care at all. He had killed someone in the name of protecting his pack today like a true son of Drageda, but in that moment, he just felt like a son, and he wanted his mommy.

oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no


the call echoed in her ears as the medic scrambled for anything. most of her medical supplies had been taken to the caldera, and then left to be used on wildfire. she had of course collected more, but the possibility that she hadn't collected enough rang in her ears. deep breathes, she thought, trying to keep her panic to a minimum. 

in her jaws she carried cobwebs and moss and dandelion and poppies, basics that she prayed would be enough for the situation. she didn't recognize the voice, but there were two howls, and heda was included-- it was important. her little legs ran as fast as she could make them, dainty paws drumming heavily against the earth-- towards the call, towards the incident.

she smelled it before she saw it-- blood, that was. there were scents mixed in, but the scent of blood always washed her brain. who was there wasn't clear to her, not until she got there.

artaax was among the crowd, as well as a dark wolf who laid-- glassy eyed and still-- off the side. blixen and a wolf she didn't recognize were there as well, but there was blood on artaax, so that was where she beelined. "what happened??" she asked quickly, halting beside artaax to begin sniffing at him. right now, she could only see the wound on his shoulder, that was what she pinned as the most urgent.

The caller’s voice is unfamiliar to her. There are view voices she can’t recognize right away but it doesn’t slow her from responding because by the time a second howl clears the air, she’s in a full run through the redwood forest. She aims south, and searches for the location as she weaves in and out until she hits the borders. It is only a split second decision to keep going, running until she sees bodies in the distance. Three—no, four—of them. When she sees the dark fur of the one on the ground, her first thought jumps to Robin. Why? It is short-lived as she gets closer, noticing nothing familiar as colors and details begin to focus.

Artaax is covered in blood of a stranger. She looks over to Blixen, then Furi, and back to her son. And there’s Portia, popping around from one side that surprised her. Her mouth opens to speak but she can’t find the words but he’s still standing and the unknown is not.

Thuringwethil stiffens, waiting there in bewildered silence for an answer.

 artaax doesn't answer her and she lets out a frustrated whine, still furious but - something's clearly wrong and fear overtakes the anger (what if the injury is worse than she sees what if he's dying what if the stranger--) "your mouth isn't bleeding!" the gona blurts desperately, responding to the unbidden thought that somehow artaax has lost his tongue in the scuffle - but no he'd said something to her when she first arrived, he's just not talking now.

 furi's done what she asked and blix peels back as portia and nomi arrive on the scene, her eyes wild. she looks at artaax, wondering if he'll talk to them, but: "that wolf was trespassing - artaax fought and killed him," she gets out, and then adds as she turns to look at nomi, "and didn't call for help," because she's gonna be steamed about that one for a while.

Please skip Furi if she is not engaged!

Her heart thumps so loud it is all she can hear for a few seconds. Her ears swivel on her head and she looks between the sibling duo and she’s not given any more instruction. Her breath lodges in her throat as she looks at the dead body that still radiates warmth. Seeing Arlo hadn’t been the same, having long been dead and twisted and… far away. She blinks quickly several times and shakes her head, jerking when Portia arrives and, a few seconds later, the Heda. The girl shrinks back to stay out of the way so they can work, ready to do what is needed.

In another state of mind, Artaax may have been amused by how the tables had turned between he and Blixen. Usually, he was the one showing disapproval for her rash actions. Now, he was the one on the receiving end of her ire, even though he was not present enough in the moment to appreciate it. She was far more verbal about her displeasure than he ever was, though. Even now, he didn't say a word as his eyes locked on her and she shouted at him about the state of his mouth. Her meaning was lost on him, and he remained perfectly quiet as his gaze trailed away and he searched the trees for nomi.

When another did arrive, it was not who he had anticipated. Portia approached swiftly, inspecting the scene and setting straight to work attending to him. He didn't move as she circled him and leaned close with her nose to the torn flesh at his shoulder. His ears flattened  and he shut his eyes tight as she posed her hurried question. The boy didn't care to explain the situation to anyone but his mother, and couldn't have fumbled his way into the words even if he'd tried. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to say it. He didn't know how to feel about what he'd done. Everyone was nervous, anxious, angry, tense. There were so many reasons to explain the rampant emotions, and he needed to know if they were caused by concern for him or disgust at what he'd done. He needed to know if this awful, sickening guilt was deserved. He had been taught to defend Drageda. He had not been taught to murder. Had he? Was it murder? He had KILLED SOMEONE.

Nomi. His eyes snapped open in a flash, pointed directly at the heda as she stood, staring in shock at the scene before her. Blixen was explaining, but the accusation in her voice bounced harmlessly off of him. He stared at his mother, pleadingly. She always knew what to do. She always knew what he needed. Artaax would follow her commands to his own death if she gave them, and so he clung to the actions she had yet to take whether they were taken to forgive or condemn. Anything to escape this terrible in between.

Skipping @Portia to keep this going. Feel free to jump back in!

Blixen is first to address her though her focus remains on her son as he registers her presence. Somehow, she can see her expression on his face the first time she’d taken a life. She’d been around his age, too, but the disconnect is still present. Thuringwethil had trained early to kill without emotion, to do what is necessary, but Artaax has always been one to question, something he needs, that makes this all easier.

Without taking her eyes off her son, she absorbs the information. Portia continues to inspect the boy and he does not regard her with anything more than compliance. “Good,” she says. “You and Furi take the body back to the edge of the borders and leave it,” she adds. Though her eyes do not leave Artaax, her words are clearly intended for Blixen, and she does not continue with anything else until the girls are gone.

sorry for the wait! exit blix unless yall need her!

 portia tends to her brother and blixen seethes, attention turned fully to nomi. she does not expect artaax to be scolded - he's done his job as a son of drageda, after all- but nomi does not acknowledge her complaint at all. though frustrated the gona knows better than to push it - at this point she's used up all of her free passes on snapping back. 

that doesn't mean she doesn't still look furious. "sha, nomi," the redhead says, voice clipped, and walks briskly to the corpse, looking at furi. "take that half," she says (orders, really, though she isn't trying to), and closes her jaws around one of the corpse's legs, wanting to get the job done quickly so she can storm off in peace.

Furi can only watch as things unfold. Portia tends to Artaax, whose only concern seems to be on Heda, and then Blixen has fallen silent. Orders are given and she doesn’t even register her name has been spoken until Blixen commands for her. She flinches, shifts her weight, and then forces herself forward. She doesn’t want to get close to the body but she doesn’t to disobey an order—from Heda or her friend—and so she tries to force herself into action.
 
She latches onto the instructed side and waits for the go ahead from the other warrior, and then helps carry the dead to the outskirts of Drageda. A warning, she thinks. She sees Arlo’s body briefly flash behind her eyes and shudders, struggling to keep her hold. When they’ve completed their task, Blixen storms off and Furi watches her go, somewhat compelled to go after her but she lingers back—away from the corpse—and blends into the background.

162

Good.

Artaax felt the earth shift back into place beneath his paws as Thuringwethil uttered that single word. He had murdered another wolf in cold blood - he had stolen a stranger's life. But the heda declared it to be "good" that he had, and so the boy's guilt and anxiety hushed, and he took in a steadying breath at last.

He was trembling still as Blixen and then Furi took their leave, ignoring Portia as she continued to worry about his wounds. His eyes were glued to his mother. He did not spare a glance for the corpse even as it was drug away, nor did he consider why Thur had ordered it done. He was shaking still, and though he felt better now that she had absolved him of his guilt, he still didn't feel entirely centered.

"I didn't even think," the boy said softly, "I just.. Went for him when he wouldn't stop. I gave him a chance, but he just kept going." Portia moved past him, and suddenly Blixen's words were echoing in his ears as though he had heard them before, but he hadn't really heard them until now. "I didn't think to call for help..." he said slowly, thoughtfully, "There wasn't time."

Or was there? The memory of the incident raced by in a blur. One moment, he was calling to the stranger to stop, and the next there was a carcass at his paws and blood smearing his pale coat. He looked up at Thur again, a question in his eyes. Was this how it felt? Was this how it was supposed to feel to protect your home, your pack, your family? To kill?

Thuringwethil watches briefly as Blixen takes initiative to remove the corpse, bossing Furi around with ease. In a different way than Artaax, she is proud of her daughter and can see Drageda within her. She’s taken Furi under her wing in a weird way and she can see the change in the young girl, too, knowing that she may likely become one of them just as easily as her own children.

It is when Artaax speaks, however, that her focus returns to him. The body no longer lies at his feet and she can see the boyish shape of his face return, despite the blood that coats his mouth and one side. Portia moves around him but doesn’t say much and, eventually, excuses herself to get something she needs to attend to his wounds. Heda does not concern herself with his injuries for it is likely superficial. Portia hadn’t said anything too worrisome, either, and Artaax is standing still—albeit shaking—but in one piece.

“You did what you were supposed to do. It is not your fault he did not listen,” she explains, seeing the worry in his eyes. She wants to reach out and touch him, taking him into her chest, but she hesitates. This is where Wildfire would specialize in physical comfort and Thuringwethil thinks only as Heda would. She fights it and steps forward, putting her nose to his cheek briefly. It isn’t the same comfort she offered him several nights ago in the wilderness on their return, but it is something and hopefully enough. “There is no pleasure in killing but he threatened us. Who knows what he would have done if you hadn’t been here,” she offers.

Her expression remains just as stoic before and she turns a little, moving to examine his shoulder without touching. It looks painful but Portia knows what she is doing and she hopes she won’t be long. “I was about your age when I made my first kill, too,” she tells him though she doesn’t know whether or not it will be any help but she can relate to the shaken feeling. She’d been trained to kill from a young age and Artaax has only trained to protect and fight and he easily still has all his emotions intact and it is that reason alone she does not mention he will bear his first mark as she had.

400

Artaax barely spared the medic a glance as she hustled off to retrieve herbs to treat his still bleeding wound. He hardly even noticed the pain, so caught up was he in the emotional turmoil he was trying to pull himself back out of. His bi-colored eyes were glued to nomi's lips as she consoled him. Had the words come from any other, the boy might not have been so easily swayed. But this was his mother, his heda - there was no dark deed he could commit that she couldn't convince him was alright.

He bowed his head, sucking in a steadying breath. His shaking began to subside, but not entirely. He swallowed a few mouthfuls of air before looking up again at Thuringwethil with more steel in his gaze than he'd been able to muster before. Artaax remained silent for a few moments as he collected his thoughts. It was somehow easier to think now that the body had been removed, and now that the heda was filling his head with confidence. But, eventually, he frowned and murmured a quiet confession to his mother.

"I didn't like it... It felt wrong," the boy said softly before his voice strengthened and he straightened, "But if it means I kept my family safe.. I would do it again. Without hesitation."

Tears glimmered in the corners of his eyes unbidden, but Artaax determinedly, stubbornly blinked them away. He was still so young in his heart, trying so hard to be so much older, so much more. In many ways, he had grown. But in many others, he was still just a boy, learning to become a man and hoping desperately that he would be soon.

Want to wrap it up?

After a moment, Artaax begins to settle. She doesn’t push him to talk, or respond to anything she says, but lets him come to the end on his own. She can see the little boy he’d been when she had him kill the baby fox and she frowns. While unable to determine how he really feels, he does announce something and she nods a little, taking a step closer to lift his chin. He may not like what he had done, but he had done the right thing, and she doesn’t know how else to make him feel better.

“Come on,” she whispers, leaning in and nudging his cheek. “Can you walk okay?” she asks. She doesn’t want to linger on the borders anymore, more concerned with getting Artaax away from the scene. She will soothe him as she can but it is not her skillset and without Wildfire, she can only do her best and hope she doesn’t mess them up too much.

164

Thur reached for him, and Artaax leaned into the touch in an effort to soak up as much comfort from it as he could. He took in a steadying breath as she stepped away and motioned for him to follow. His heart still pounded, but he nodded to confirm that he could and would follow. He moved at her shoulder as she lead him away from the borders, thankful for the growing space between himself and the scene of his crime. His triumph. And mostly, the sight of the stranger's blood soaking into the earth where he had been slain.