Herbalists' Cache wake up

Body rattles, and bones ached, she felt a weakness as limbs felt sore. She could feel the tension rise within, as the stress drained into her core. Desdemona felt her limits, but she didn't want to admit to the truth. Mind or body, she thought as the pains slowly dwindled, and the feverish vision faded out. The first arrival toward Morningside came with months of hardships, both her thoughts, and her muscles. She focused on what was important, to keep the place stafe, to stay loyal, to show her loyalty. Most of all, to feel alive, and to have a purpose, even if it meant pushing to the limits.

She felt pathetic, for what battle did she face, to end up in this state? Body torn, but there was no scar, nor crimson to be shown, she didn't do anything notworthy. Her shame and pity, was wished to be tucked away, and the dame slipped by within the shadows. Desdemona felt hesistance, as her dark paws slowly traced at the borders, but heavy steps continued outward from the maplewoods, as she unwillingly pulled herself away. Unseen, and unworry, she did not want to be seen in this feeble humilation. Though with each movement, she could feel her paws give out, that it was a struggle, just to get out of the vincinity. As there was no scars, no wounds, there was nothing to heal, and in the end, all there left was the shame she felt.
Somewhere, she thought, anywhere, where no one could see her. Somewhere, she could collect herself, for only a few minutes. She was unwilling to have more then a few minutes, for she had to do something, something useful. Desdemona was nothing, if she was useless, for she felt what she was. If she did nothing- she did not deserve the place named Morningside. If she did nothing, she did not deserve to be a comrade. If she did nothing.. Well, she was always a bastard in the end.

Her face twisted into a snarl over her own body as it continued to be reluctant, but her determination forced it to continue forward. Jade eyes narrowed toward the sight of pine trees, and she felt relief to not be near the maplewoods. But when she came to, she collapsed, and widened her eyes in surprise. She couldn't move- it was a struggle. She laid down, a squint laid upon her face as she let out feverish pants in a weakend state. Desdemona thought to give herself, just a moment of peace, despite her whole center screaming for rest. She continued on, in conciousness, mind slipping into a blurred, dizzy state that tried to lure her out. She held on, with just a thin string.. But for how long could she continue?

Artaax's last foray into the wilderness to attempt to find his wayward sister had ended in frustration. Just frustration. Nothing else. Not even the suggestion of a hint as to where Bat had run off to. It had pissed him off deeply and driven him back home, attempting to convince himself that she could just go right to hell if she would rather be lost to him than found.

Eventually though, his temper tantrum subsided, and out he went again. He decided to take a more practical approach and searched the areas nearest to Drageda first before going further. Unfortunately, weeks had passed since Bat had disappeared, so there was no real trail for him to even hope to find. That meant he had to resort to a thing he loathed utmost amongst perfectly common and acceptable things one could spend their time doing; he would have to talk to others. If anyone could help him find Bat, it would be someone who had happened to have seen her. It was up to luck now. And fortunately, Artaax had always been very proficient at contributing the effects of luck to his own spectacular abilities. So it would all work out in the end.

Until... he came upon the first stranger.

The fuck is she doing... the feisripa thought to himself as he gazed solemnly at the dark shape in the distance. He had paused to watch it - no, her... Her? Yeah, her - struggle for a few minutes before she finally paused and stopped stirring. His eyes narrowed in a frown as she continued to not move and thus left him with a very perplexing decision to make. In her current state, she didn't seem like she was going to be helpful at all to his search. But, if he passed the opportunity up and she had known something, wouldn't that be a failure on his part? He huffed with annoyance before starting towards her. This was probably going to end poorly, buuuuuut... Why not?

Artaax paused when he was within a few feet of her and lowered his head, tilting it slightly as he let a low rumble echo out of his chest. It was his attempt to get her attention so that he could ask about Bat. Because things like "are you okay?" and "do you need help?" simply didn't occur to him when he was on a mission. Or when he was breathing.

Her body slumped, and even with an attempt her limbs only slide back down as her body felt too heavy to rise. It hurt more now that she was still, as the movement kept her body distracted from the muscle strain; she regretted stopping. A few moments of rest, she thought it would heal. Desdemona was not a stranger to pain neither, she overexerted her body before, but that was when her siblings were still around. They forcefully given her the break that she oh-so required, though she remembered feeling quite a grudge against them during that time. Looking back they only wanted to best, but the dark wolf only wanted the best for herself, to prove herself toward the birth pack. This time there was no one looking after her, and she ignored it altogether, ending in this miserable state.

She had thought she would be fine getting away from her packmates, but her small world had forgotten that others roamed.. She met the allies, the few visitors toward the maplewoods, but land unclaimed could never be assumed to be desolate. She narrowed at the sound of him. Desdemona insticts were to snarl, but she only bristled slightly while looking toward him stoicly. She remained in silence, and nly looked at him with a silent question, 'what do you want?' She didn't get up for him, her body remained on the ground as her head slowly brushed against the ground to turn a jaden gaze toward the stranger. She wished to be left alone, but felt relief it wasn't a Morningsider, but a stranger she most likely would not see again.

The female didn't stand, but he saw her react to his approach with prickling guard hairs and a look that struck him as reproachful. He quirked a brow at her, but otherwise was happy to disregard her less-than-friendly greeting. It wasn't as though he had a friendly one to offer himself, but of course, he didn't think to excuse her rudeness by calling out his own potential hypocrisy. He just didn't particularly care.

"Have you seen a young wolf around here?" he asked, as though she were standing before him, looking just as fit and healthy as he looked and not like she'd been crawling through a barren desert for decades, "Gray, with large ears, and... eyes." What the hell color were Bat's eyes? His ear flickered in annoyance that she hadn't been born with more distinctive eyes like him. Then he would've remembered. Totally her fault.

Desdemona wheezed slightly as she felt short of breathe and wanted to whine over the aching joints, but held tongue. Despite in a weakened state, one approached without regard to it and bombarded her with a question. She would rather be alone, though unable to move caused her to stay and listen toward his questioning, making her stare at him in silence for quite some time. She wondered why he would approach a wolf like her, who was, and looked quite useless. She would never fathom the minds of others.

"I have not." After quite a few moments of staring at him, the dark dame gave a short answer in an emotionless tone. She mustered her best to give a complete sentence without faltering to a stammer or a whine, and hoped this was enough for the male before her. Her jades glided away from him, as she turned her head away once an answer was given. Desdemona wanted to be alone, in this sorry state, but she was not granted it. After an answer, perhaps she will be then. There was no thought to get help from a stranger, as her mindset was that this will pass sooner or later. Even then, she would not seek help or pity from those around her- that felt pathetic to do. Already pathetic enough, the fae didn't want to worsen the bitter feeling.

Artaax hadn't been all too hopeful that the female would have anything useful to tell him. I mean, look at her. But still, he felt disappointment sink into his veins at hearing her words. He released a slow, frustrated sigh that sounded for all the world like an elongated exhale before dipping his head in a nod of thank you and walking away.

Fortunately, he went only about four or five steps before he paused and glanced sidelong at her. His brows narrowed in a frown as he gazed thoughtfully at her. What was she doing, anyway? Artaax didn't particularly care - she'd proven herself to be completely useless, after all - but still...

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, ever the gentleman.

An ear twitch upon hearing the exaggerated sigh, but she did not turn back to him. She didn't see his nod either, and only closed her eyes for a few moments, once Desdemona heard his paws move away. Eyelids felt heavy and eyes felt pained on staring at nothing but the air. She thought he must be looking for someone important, but in the end it had nothing to do with her, so she didn't linger too long on thinking about this stranger.

Though, he turned back, and bluntly asked her on what is wrong. Reluctantly, her head twisted back to look at the other as she opened her jades, but she still did not get up, and continued laying on the side. Desdemona started at him for a few moments before opening her maw and answering in the upmost serious tone, "resting."

Her response made his brows furrow even deeper as it was nonsense to him. Another would've maybe accepted it and left her to her business, but now he was irritated. He'd asked a simple question and she had clearly not been paying attention. No one ignored him.

"That's what you're doing, not why you're doing it," he said in his soft, deep voice. He tempered his annoyance - as he did all emotion - and held it from his tone as he repeated himself, "I asked what's wrong with you."

She kept on with a blank, emotionless stare while looking at the agitated male. Her fur had sleeked back from its earlier hostility, as she simply regarded him as a passbyer. So she hoped, but time proven he wouldn't simply go away despite answers being met, but none seemed to satisfy the stranger. Desdemona questioned what were his goals on disturbing her, and why try to have this conversation with someone so ragged and tired. She didn't even get up from a slumped position, showing no interest toward this meeting.

"Why do you want to know?" So she asked, giving a question with a question, not answering his. She felt there wasn't a reason to answer, for the obvious lay in her pitiful look. She wouldn't explain her stress and soreness to a Packmate, so Desdemona would refrain even more from someone she did not know.

The question seemed to make it through her skull the second time around, though she dodged the question by posing another in return. He gazed stoically at her as he responded, "Good question," in a humorless, deadpan tone. It was an honest response - he really didn't know why he wanted to know except for that not knowing just bothered him at this point. That was kind of a rude thing to say though, so...

"It bothers me not knowing," he answered. Because he has honestly not once ever cared about being rude.

Her eyes narrowed on this oddity of a male. She didn't take note of his rude nature, much less think on it, but more focused on why he seemed determined to know what she was doing. Desdemona didn't answer him however, as she didn't have the energy to freely talk, and felt it was a pointless act to disclose personal information. Why would she? He was someone she didn't know, a passbyer who would soon leave when he got bored. She had given the few main answers he sought, but not of the ones that concerned herself. With those thoughts in mind, she turned her head and tucked it back by her chest in a silent matter, as she begun to ignore the stranger.

She didn't answer and finally the annoyance grew enough to flash across his face. He rolled his eyes and picked up his paws to leave, murmuring "Dison laik son swima op ona rein..." to himself as he began to go. He had far better things to do than to concern himself with some pathetic stranger anyway. A little louder, Artaax added, "Good luck," as his farewell to her. Assuming she didn't draw him back with more nonsense, he would be on his way to continue his search for his sister - an obviously far better use of his time.

A foreign tongue was heard, one she never heard of. The dark wolf has only met those of the same language, and while she was aware of different cultures, the chance to meet them were limited. She had met another, once, being the Ikkanattuk, though other matters were more important than the learning of the unknown. Desdemona was of course curious, as usually one with a different culture in the lands, normally were not alone... Was there more of them?

Were there more neighbors? The need for knowledge engulfed her desires, as she felt the more she knew, the more use she held. Desdemona knew very little about the lands, much less other Packs. She knew of some just by name, such as Undersea, and met a few, Moonspear, Easthollow and Ikkanattuk. Reluctantly, her jades rolled over to the stranger, as she stared as he turned away.

"Who are you?" Weakened, but the desire to learn on what was around overcame her desire. She felt her limbs ache as they moved upward, settling herself in a more sitting situation. She wobbled, but stabilized herself long enough to learn what was needed, perhaps, "Are you a Pack wolf?" A little more talkative then usual, but maybe because she felt so useless in this moment, that she had to learn something.

Oh so now she wanted to talk. Artaax stopped and looked back over his shoulder at her, his annoyance now apparent as he lost the will to mask his emotions from her. He considered just continuing to walk away, but her gaze arrested him momentarily.

"Artaax Drakru," he answered, pausing to hear her ask another question that was equally as pointless as the first. "Yes," he said to her, not bothering to elaborate. He was not a good conversationalist and had no desire to become one. Besides which, she had neglected to answer the only question he had posed of her, so what use was it trying another?

With that, he turned away again and continued on his search for Bat. He was done with this.