Broken Boulder or without your smile

set sometime after this thread
this is not mandatory; there will only be one round. in a week or so I'll wrap it up <3
@Lanawyn @Lily @Korei Julia @Xahi @Delight @Queenie @Semira @Horosk @Liri

Blank and hollow, he covered miles of plains carrying his dead packmate. The horror had left him— the regret and sorrow had left him. None of these things brought light to her eyes or warmth to her body again; he wondered if he even had a right to wish it so. If he had any right to be upset at all.
But he wasn't upset— he only felt cold.
The energy left him as he crossed the borders; he only made it as far as the creek. His lungs were tight, and a sharp pain bit fiercely through his skull; his disheveled coat reeked with the scent of Sleeping Dragon. He tried to lower Ioa gently to the ground, but the woman still flopped sickeningly. The Governor paused, gaze fixed on the unmarred corpse for several beats.
Finally, he howled— not to summon his packmates, but to inform them. Ioa had not been with them for long; he did not expect them to help him bury her, or to grieve. He would hold his own vigil tonight, and perhaps they would come if they felt inclined. Alarian moved, then, to dig a grave for the pale woman, knowing it to be his charge.

I may or may not post again, depending on if I wanna hash it out.  Skip me, I might jump in.

Ioa was not Celia and that was indisputable fact.  Alarian had returned with news of their mother's death before Ioa had taken her life at the Sleeping Dragon.  Their mannerisms might have been similar.  Their stature.  The colour of their pelt.  Still, Ioa was not their mother.  She had been a packmate, and not one that Lanawyn had gotten to know very well.

Lanawyn slid in beside her brother without a word and began to paw at the damp summersweet earth.  Had she been buried?  Large tears pooled over her lids and down her cheekbones.  Her throat began to burn.  Had she?  Had Celia gotten her vigil?

Thoughts came to her in every graphic manner she could imagine — her mother's skull cracked and dripping, the sound a creature makes as life begins to escape.

This was for Ioa.  But somewhere in Lanawyn's heart, it was for Celia, too.

Korei Julia had her ears flick at the call. Someone had passed? She had not known that someone had passed. In fact, she possibly barely recalled them. But nonetheless, she trailed over. And as soon as she saw the grave that had been dug, she realized she had met them. The quiet one. Had she said something? Korei had possibly been the last to see her alive, had she? The sudden thought of being the last to see her struck her. 

And it was not her only feelings. She was struck with grief, an old grief upon seeing the grave. She had promised to herself she would have buried Galaxy...the chance in truth, never came. And she could only imagine Galaxy without her grave. How still she was...and she cried then and there.

He had not known Ioa. However the call did not go unnoticed by the storyteller - his brows furrowed with concern and he wasted no time in locating the source of the call, beginning to trek to where Alarian was burying the body. When he emerged onto the scene, Horosk's head automatically dipped with sorrow. No, he had not known Ioa, but still a soul had been lost and he would respect the life that had once been. The life that had passed.

He remained silent, to quietly grieve for the deceased woman in hopes of not disturbing the others gathered.

Liri had been here less than a week, she'd arrived shortly before the others, the ones she had not met. And while she was quickly acclimating to life in a pack once more - she had not met everyone. 

Yet, she knew the Governor and when his call came, mournful and exhausted, the winter sprite hastened on damaged steps to find him. Anxiety beat in her throat, dread coursing like blood in her veins to pool in her stomach. 

This time, it was not something she had lost. She had no pain here, only the sympathy for those who had.

She did not know the woman who lay still and frozen in time, smelling of ash and death. The apparition approached silently, respectfully, to pause by Horosk as he too looked on with quiet sorrow. 

Liri could not help but remember her last burial. 

She could still feel the pain of birthing her son, worse still the pain of losing him, losing the both of them. 

She had not buried her daughter, the tiny bloody thing she had left behind in the mountains. Instinct had called for her to keep going, to keep her other child alive. 

And all for naught.

Sometimes, the damaged girl felt she should have stayed in those mountains. She had often longed to go back, lay down and die with her children. 

Optics the color of the forest surrounding them, closed to the scene before her, shielding her from seeing it. But it could not erase the memories printed on her eyelids. 

"He will need herbs, for his lungs," the healer whispers softly, too low for anyone to hear save for the man at her side, the only to know her loss but lucky enough not to see it everyday. 

With a heavy swallow, Liri turned away. There was work to be done and she couldn't be here.

With a lack of reponsibility came the absence of true failure, or at least the knowledge of it. Lily had never been in charge of anything before this. Her parents had given her no real power, her siblings more capable than she. She had made it nearly to her second year of life without having to taste the bitterness of regret.

Ali's howl startled her from the edges of the Bracken Woods, where she had been practicing her stalking. It was a call of grief--the announcement of death. Not of one she had known well. . .but a packmate nonetheless. Lily swallowed, approaching slowly.

Ioa. The pale form lay motionless on the ground, the Keil siblings industriously digging a grave. Lily had only truly interacted with her once, at the hunt, and even that had been brief and unmemorable. Truth be told, she couldn't even summon the sound of her voice, the story of her life. She had known nothing--and she felt shame rise over her in a wave accompanied by grief.

She should have cared more. Should have reached out. Broken Boulder was safe; if the girl felt at home here, she would have stayed, not strayed out into the wilderness. Ioa smelled of the acrid smoke that rose from Sleeping Dragon; she looked as if she were merely sleeping herself, except stiff with death. She had met her end there, likely alone. Lily felt entirely responsible.

She was a counselor to these wolves, a friendly face to help them in times of crisis and need. It was her job to know everyone, to make sure everyone felt welcome and loved. But she'd not known Ioa, and now she never would. For the first time in her life, Lily felt failure.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Those words echoed through her head, a silent chant, but the dark Consultant remained wordless as she slunk next to Lanawyn and began to dig. And dig. And dig.

Each small shower of dirt was a weight on her heart.

delight doesn't know the dead girl. delight barely knows the alive ones, for god's sake -- but he comes to alarian's call in wide-eyed alarm, sees the body, and thinks: oh no. and thinks: it's followed me here, too. and thinks: maybe it wasn't tindómë that was cursed. maybe it's him.

he doesn't tell any of this to alarian. how could he on the heels of his generosity? (how could he when -- he's bringing life into the equation that he's directly responsible for?)

no, he'll stay quiet, even as he draws to alarian's side, helping him dig the grave with automatic motions. wondering if the spectre of death will ever cease hanging over the soft curves of his skull. wondering if he's doomed alarian and bracken sanctuary the way he'd doomed tindome, too.

archiving!

He fractured further with the arrival of each packmate; something raw shifted desperately in his chest, as if searching for relief and finding none. It was Lanawyn who came first to help him— then Lily, as the others gathered around. Alarian did not pause. Around him he heard the movement of his packmates, someone crying, but he could not bring himself to look up.
It was Delight's arrival that drew his attention, selfishly. He felt no guilt; he was too empty to feel guilty. His gaze swept across his friend's features, and he paused for the barest moment— half a beat, perhaps. Alarian moved to brush his nose gently against the other's shoulder, quick enough that the movement would not draw much attention outside Delight's. He said nothing, and did not meet his eyes whether the gesture was accepted or not.
He lingered only long enough to finish burying Ioa— to tell Lanawyn he would hold a vigil come sundown, to offer comfort whether she accepted it or not (he expected she would not), to see to the crying Korei— and then, the Governor fled to his den.