Jade Fern Grove i'm gonna be gone for good again

She’d found their former claim once more but it is only vaguely familiar to her. It’s been more than a year since she’d last been here and it makes sense for her to end up here again, failing once more to reconcile or even… just find them. She’s tired and thin and hungry and winter is here. The wind is faint through the grove, the thin trees unable to block all of it. It carries scents on it more than changes the scenery and she moves every so often. There aren’t any landmarks she can recall, just brief interactions she had with the few wolves she thought she’d be calling home.
 
At this point, she doesn’t know where to go. Her former home might take her back in but she is tired of traveling, tired of worrying. She can let them go now. If she can’t find them by this point, what’s the use? They’ve moved on, too.
 
Ocra sighs, lowers her rump to the ground, and as the afternoon settles into something quiet, she makes herself as comfortable as she can.

by the time she'd made it back to the plateau, oh, the whole dream was dashed, thoroughly destroyed. the whole lot of it goes over witchbaby's pretty head - she doesn't get pack formation, doesn't know what they were missing, but she doesn't mourn much. nor does she let herself mourn for kinkajuú. if her beautiful love will stay by her side then - well, it's all a girl can dream for, right? but fate's cruel tricks have other plans and wb can only keep her head above water.

she picks a direction she's never been and goes, without a thought, without a word. oh, but weetzie -- he'll track her down again, the smart little thing, or she'll go collect him eventually, eventually. the temperature is low and sharp and she shivers as she walks but keeps her mind blank. it's - who knows how long until she comes back to herself with a shake of her head.

she doesn't know where she is but that's not what matters - what matters is the scent of another close-by; the starlet dances closer, curious, and announces herself with a cackled chuff. what beautiful thing has been brought her way?

Xan rn.

Venturing both through and beyond the valley had become something of a habit for him, legs taking him places even without his agreement. Whatever drove him knew what areas to avoid, where the dangers hid in waiting, thus keeping him from ceasing the aimless journeys. That day, however, he felt rather betrayed by himself the second he entered the familiar embrace of the grove. Furrowing his brows, he glanced from one direction to the next, looking but not really seeing. Behind his eyes there played memories, however few he’d made during his short stay there with the others. Nevertheless, it was enough to bother him, leaving him itching to see more and relive however much of it that his mind would allow. It was with oblivion reigning over his being that he proceeded, making his way down familiar trails whilst following ghosts—ghosts that, oddly enough, took on physical forms before long.

The first he saw was Ocra, her face unable to be forgotten, which made him stop dead in his tracks. Alexander’s eyes then drifted towards the other, thinking it was Sriracha at first, only to realise right away that it wasn’t. Jerkily shaking his head, he decided that the first wolf wasn’t actually Ocra; the two wouldn’t have parted ways, so this must just be a look-alike. Although… the similarities were uncanny, keeping him from drawing any closer. Instead, he held back, staring onward like like a socially awkward child and listening (read: eavesdropping) in the hopes of catching their names. Perhaps the look-alike was related to Ocra somehow—that seemed far more believable than her having returned without her friend in tow.

The chuff draws her attention upward t a wispy thing coming her way. Her eyes are a bright color she’s never seen anyone bear before and they are only more intense the closer she gets. Her rather dull in comparison olive eyes are unable to tear away from them. “Hey,” she says as she begins to untangle herself and stand on all four legs. There’s nothing necessarily familiar about the other, based on her current trip around the teekon—most of the former is long gone, especially with the shift in packs. Before, there hadn’t been one near but she skirted close to one not terribly long ago. The stranger doesn’t bear any scent similar to that but she saying anything else just yet.

the sight of the other's eyes stops her for a moment - olive, that sweet-deceptive color, the frame of kinkajuú's windows of the soul. but the stranger doesn't resemble her lost-love otherwise, and the staccato of her heart finds its footing once again. 

she may not bear a resemblance but witchbaby has a weakness for olive eyes, she finds. "hey yourself," the starlet says, voice slow and sweet like her footfalls drawn closer. "y'from around here?"

Skipping Xan by request!

The other is friendly enough in her approach, maybe a little flirty, but Ocra isn’t entirely receptive to that in the moment. Maybe once upon a time she’d return the gesture but as tired as she was, it’s a surprise she’s managed this much niceness. Her eyes remain absorbed in the pink eyes of the stranger, fascinated by the strange color. She’s never seen it on anything but flowers. “Not really,” she answers, realizing she’s taken a few seconds too long. “I lived here briefly a while ago but we’ve long since parted,” she explains, looking around. It once held a place that was meant for many more memories than they’d given it and she frowns, returning her gaze back to her friend. “I’m Ocra.”

sorrrrrry short and baaad >__>

she doesn't get much of a response, but hey, not everyone's feeling it all the time and the starlet pays it no mind. "wb," she returns, absorbing the girl's name - ocra, something snap and woodsy, she thinks. "kinda nice to come back to somethin', ain't it?" the girl adds, though it's not something she's ever done - maybe she's thinking of a dream, returning to something she didn't have in the first place.

Ocra feels a squirm come up and she moves, shrugging one shoulder. She hasn’t found what she’s been looking for and she hadn’t left on good terms, either, so really it was a waste to have come all the way down here. “I guess so, they ain’t here anymore,” she tells her and glancing away to hide the frown. “Is your name really...” she trails off, lifting her head to look back in the girl’s direction and she gets a glimpse of white in the distance. Her brows knit together and, to her luck, the wind shifts enough to tease her senses with Xan’s scent. Her mouth parts to say something and nothing comes out, a lump clogging up her throat and preventing anything that might make any sense.

Watching the interaction unfold, he wondered if he was just wasting his own time. Despite how similar the one female was to Ocra, it couldn’t possibly be her. She’d left months ago, leaving him all alone shortly after he’d left the woods for them. They had both just up and left without a trace or a word; Xan had spent weeks wondering where they’d gone and why they decided to leave him before finally finding it within himself to forget them. They weren’t coming back—he had told himself that so many times that he’d actually started to believe it. There was nothing left for either of them to return to, so what would draw either of them back? Perhaps he would have been convinced had he seen Sriracha, knowing that Ocra would never go anywhere without him... right?

Maybe not.

The Inuk was seconds away from turning when he heard the Ocra look-a-like mentioned having once lived there. Curious, he stilled and listened further, shock blinding him seconds later. So, it was Ocra. He suddenly felt lightheaded, needing to process this information. Did she come back for him…? No, she wouldn’t have. Even if she had, it wouldn’t have mattered. Shaking his head, he considered his escape route but froze before taking it, feeling eyes on him. Peering through the various flora, his gaze met hers and he knew—he knew he’d been caught, that he couldn’t just vanish into thin air, entirely undetected.

Swallowing, he took a few slow steps forward, legs stiff and eyes never leaving her direction. Forgetting that they weren’t alone, he didn’t think to glance towards the other female, Ocra having his full attention. Yet, once he was fully exposed, he couldn’t think of anything to say. His mind was suddenly blank and his throat dry, silence taking over until…

“Why?”

Why was she there? Why was she back? Why did she leave? Why wasn’t Sriracha with her? Just… why?

wb's gaze doesn't leave the pretty girl's, hanging on her every word with naked sincerity (a treasure of hers, these big pink eyes) though the words themselves are so mundane. she laughs as the question starts - and then closes her mouth, confused, casting a look toward where ocra is -- oh, there's a boy, only she ain't know him or what's going on. the scarlet coy is decidedly less impressed with the interruption (boys!) but there must be a story here she doesn't know from the way he steps forward all tortured-like and says why. 

"witchbaby," she announces, answering ocra's unfinished question, before swinging towards the pale-white stranger. "an' who're you?" the girl drawls, sizing him up - oblivious to her presence as a third wheel, oblivious to the idea that she might be the odd one out. no, no, she was having a perfectly pleasant-if-plain conversation with miss ocra, and this boy's just gonna have to wait his turn.

She faintly hears the explanation but it’s drowned out in hot ears that burn to much upon her head. They fall back and she stares at him, licking her lips with a dry tongue. She’d given up her search after coming full circle twice and, lo and behold, here stands one of them.
 
“Xan,” she says quietly, taking a step away from her new friend and directing herself toward the large, pale wolf. He’s changed a little but it’s him and his own array of emotions cross his face that seem to mimic hers. His only question shows its weight as she opens her mouth to say something though she doesn’t have the words to form. After an awkward moment, she turns and gestures to… her, hoping to take some of the pressure off the situation. “This is… um…” she pauses as her throat turns dry, making it difficult to talk. She turns back to Xan a beat later. “I’ve been looking for you.”

He found himself looking towards the pink-eyed woman, her question left hanging in the air. He opened his mouth to answer but the voice that gave his name was not his own, luring his gaze back over to Ocra—why is she there? Her attempt at taking the attention off of herself and dragging the bystander—that’s all Witchbaby was to him in this situation—into their mess didn’t phase him. Never did he look away, eyes trained on her as his tornado of emotions settled down and favoured just one: anger. His lips twitched with the temptation of snarling at her, as it was the only way that he knew how to get what he was feeling out in the open for her to see—for her to see what she had done, to experience the consequences of her impulsiveness.

But nothing happened. He didn’t snarl or even growl at her, he just continued to stare.

“You wouldn’t have needed to look if you hadn’t run off,” he shot back. “What, did Sriracha get tired of you? Is that why you’re suddenly back—back here, of all places?” There came a reminder, from the depths of his mind, on how to deal with problems. He wanted to rush forward, to make her regret having ever ended their friendship with her abandonment, but he couldn’t. Stuck where he stood, he couldn’t lash out in any way aside from verbally, his body wouldn’t let him.

impatient pink eyes flit between the pair -- what, is the starlet supposed to be happy her spotlight's stolen? 

"as much as i hate t'interrupt a surely needed reunion," wb croons, her silky-smooth voice taking on a sharp glass edge as she slides back up beside ocra, "it's more'n a little rude to interrupt someone to start bringin' up the past. an' it's even ruder to abandon someone mid-conversation just 'cause somethin' else comes along." the last bit is snipped at her would-be friend, accompanied by a small huff. wolves! what rude beasts they can be, not a sense of decorum in them.

Xan doesn’t even give her a chance before bashing into her. Ears fall back against her head and she briefly closes her eyes. What kind of reaction did she really expect? She’d left him behind, as well as the others Sriracha, all for the one that brought them together. He’d asked her to lead beside him and she clung to that, despite her inexperience and reluctance. If she’d been a real leader, she’d have stayed behind and… tried something. Xan wouldn’t be looking at her this way and… and her new friend wouldn’t be upset.
 
She sighs, turning as the other expresses the offense both of them commit. Xan doesn’t seem to care but she looks back, apologetically, and her mouth hangs slack to try and say something but nothing comes out because she sucks and ruins everything she possibly can. The petite girl departs and she looks back, putting another step between them before she tries again. “I didn’t run off. I was trying to find Sriracha. And I just… I got farther and farther away, knowing I needed to come back but… one day I was too far and still hadn’t found him,” she tells him, twisting her lips a little. Maybe he had gotten tired of her, of all of them, and in the result she’s just as alone as she had been before.

Alexander paid no mind to the words of the stranger nor even her departure, her existence having more or less been wiped clean from his mind. All he could see was Ocra, her voice being the only one to reach his ears right now—and he hated it. Not because she was speaking but because she was lying, and doing so in a way that it almost seemed believable—almost being the keyword. But he did not fall for it, he did not allow himself to be dragged back in and forced to forgive when he had no reason to do so.

She had run off. She had abandoned him. These were facts, she could not deny them.

“But you did,” he retorted. “You just up and left without a word to anyone—to me.” He had been a fool to think they were friends, to trust her even after every event in his life told him that doing so was a terrible idea. He’d ignored reason, he’d ignored the past, and for what? To have it repeat itself, just the same as it always did. “I get it, you always liked Sriracha more than me, but was being around me so bad that you couldn’t even say goodbye? You just abandoned me here…” And it had hurt.

Last post from me.

Xan always had a hard head, much too stubborn for his own good. Her jaws tighten, teeth grinding against one another, and she looks away. Nothing she says will fix the situation because yes, she did abandon him but not for the reason he thinks. She remembers many conversations of her giving up and letting him win because he can’t see the own hurt he can cause. Ocra stares at him for a few minutes before she finally looks away and stares at the ground for several seconds. You win this one, too, she thinks, giving him a brief glance before she turns and retreats. Hate me.

She did not argue or try to defend herself. All she did was stand there, staring at him before averting her gaze to the ground. He felt his anger gradually bubbling up inside him, ready to spill over in the form of insults and more accusations, but nothing ever came out of his mouth. He was given one last glance before she turned and, once again, left him there all alone.

But this time, he was prepared. He’d expected it from her, believing that few deserved a second chance; if they left once, they would always leave again, just as she was doing. Yet, it still hurt, and he felt a sharp pang in his chest as he stared at her retreating form, but he couldn’t chase after her. He couldn’t drag her back to him when he knew she would just leave again—she would always leave, no matter the circumstances, because he wasn’t Sriracha.

Tearing his eyes off of her, Alexander finally turned and took off in the opposite direction, heart aching and trust stripped entirely from his body.