Deepwood Weald and every day, I'd add another stone to keep you safe

following my encounter w/ @Nocturnal - meeting @Damien

A million thoughts were plaguing Marruz like the beaks of a conspiracy, pecking at his mind and soul. There could be seen, of course, in that lone indigo eye (and the black should one look hard enough) no glimpse of these emotions. He followed lightly as always, swift on his limber appendages and quieter still upon the lush undergrowth of the eery forest.

He was going to meet a true Melonii soon, and the idea was both unnerving and riveting for the boy. In his peripherals, the grey mitten of his left foreleg bounded in and out of sight below him. It seemed to mock him as he pushed forward, nevertheless stoic in this whirlwind of concerns. 

Marruz shook his coat and pushed everything to the back of his mind, deciding his time could be used much more resourcefully on collecting himself. He knew, from what he had experienced, that Damien was the ultimate sovereign. But was he also critical? Ruthless? Did he also have a feathered accomplice? The lissome trees swayed and cracked above, echoing his troubled spirit. And all of this remained tucked deep within, so that as he moved he appeared even more hollow than the Deepwood.

The numbers kept growing just as he had foreseen, and thought he hadn't envisioned his pack to be so packed with so many of his distant relatives he couldn't feel more proud of what he was doing. He was fulfilling his mother's task of building a safe haven for Meloniis, and they were just about to expand even further.

However, the fact that they were his blood hadn't given Damien too many reasons to pour his trust on them without question. From what he knew the whole Melonii family was made up by ruthless mercenaries and cunning spies, not to mention the occult savvy priests like Meldresi herself dealing with dark and dangerous things.he needed to build a system he could trust to maintain itself in shape, and for that he needed to know each of his new subordinates enough to place them accordingly in the structure.

The newest of them he hadn't met yet, but knowing already that his lover had welcomed another Melonii to their fold he had been looking forward to their formal meeting. He was found sulking through the woods, yet another dark stain in the white canvas of the snow covered weald. Without wasting time Damien approached him with a bark, flagging his authority with tail high and broad posture. His scent was still that of an outsider, and with a poor visibility thanks to the mist his approach may have come off as a little too aggressive.

The wolf was large at first glance and, through the gloom, slightly imperial in manner. Marruz straightened so that he stood at maximum spread, feeling obligated despite his clear lack of anything more than true height. His eyes probed the stranger dispassionately; hovering across his features with an austere coolness. 

Despite his taciturn appearance, the dark boy's mind was swift in manner. It took no investigation to surmise that this brute before him was Damien - the one that the girl with the raven had referred to as her mate. And while the brilliance of his ivory gaze was startling enough, what caught Marruz's attention was the intricate patchwork of scars emblazoned within the skin of his left shoulder. He could delineate only the pawprint for certain, though he believed there to be a second symbol just beneath or within.

Throughout this silent interrogation of his, Marruz had neglected motion; standing eerily still as though that of some infernal statue. When the newcomer drew close enough, he only lifted his snout to meet the gentle descent of the snowdrifts.

 "You must be Damien," his voice had recently thickened, but no grasps of youth managed to mask the underlying ice in his tone. Nevertheless, he attempted to play a somewhat cordial act, if only to test the waters.

This one was young, a promise much like Midar, and Damien felt grateful. He still had to ask any of them what had driven them here, away from their original packs, but for now he didn't suspect any potential danger from the sudden influx of Meloniis in Teekon.

Pale eyes scanned the newcomer, landing on the eyes for a thorough inspection. Yes, the blue of his eye was Melonii alright, but he had to move closer to find the other one and realize this was yet another case of non-matching eyes like his lover and late brother. It was intriguing to look into that obsidian orb, but Damien didn't dwell on it too long before his voice broke the cold silence.

I am. he said proudly, Damien Mehrunes, son of Meldresi Melonii he added, convinced that whoever heard his mother's name would be immediately impressed.

Why do you come to us? he asked, and whatever his reaction, independent on the spoken answer would make up Damien's mind about the Melonii boy forever.

Marruz's ears perked at the man's words. He was pleased to hear that indeed, he had not commit the imbroglio spawned from such false identifications. What was more — he was the son of the Meldresi Melonii. 

The boy, though raised far from the heartlands of the Melonii heritage, had heard the sacred name only few times prior, but it held no less stark an impact upon the crystal air. Nevertheless, such impressions were void on the phlegmatic darkling's agile frame. Indeed, the most excitable shift across his features rested solely upon the minute twitch of his aforementioned ears. As always, this did not even touch his glassy orbs.

"If you need confirmation, I am a Melonii myself," Marruz's tone retained its habitual spleen. "I'm the second eldest to M'aiq and Missamsi."

He paused to glance upwards; searching for a stretch of the serene beyond. If he could just catch a glimpse of the stars he might find a better answer. For now, however, he only shrugged with a residual sigh.

"I'm not exactly sure why I'm here," he squared his stance with the air of one indifferent to their feeble response. A whorl of ashen carbon dioxide escaped the precipitous sponge of his nose. Marruz never broke his gaze. "But the stars are guiding me. And this is where they have pointed all my life." He did not mention the man who had chased him away — did not even try to hint towards the hell he had fled. There was no trace of the twisted bond he shared with two brothers. Above all, there was not even a glimmer of the phantom pains of his absent youth.

Though confirmation wasn't requested, the young Melonii provided further proof of his heritage. Proof that would have been more efficient on someone more familiar with the ties and names that composed the Melonii family tree (or perhaps family web is a more appropriate term?), for truly Damien was in the dark about his heritage.

But he took the comment as it was, no more than a fact, and believed the man in front of him for now. What he found himself more interested in was in fact his explanation of how he had ended up with them. Now, you could say it was just a fairy tale meant to scare innocent spiderlings, but Damien had always taken his mother's story about the stars as factual. They were the eyes of those who had escaped the Brotherhood's claws, and as such the messages they could have conveyed to Marruz were worthy of suspicion. They speak to you, then? the shadow lord was curious to know.

Marruz shrugged, as though indifferent. His eyes were still trained at the stars, but they focused most upon the faint ring that now encircled thhe moon. Rather like a stain upon the dark abyss, Marruz was drawn to the strange phenomenon. When he was much smaller, he could only just recall his mother mentioning the sight. It had been the first time he had ever taken notice of the sky.

He shivered now, for the chill had tangibly strengthened. There was a light drizzle of crystalline dandruff sifting through the air. And Marruz found himself wondering how to percieve the question at hand. Were the stars themselves accomplices? Or was it only his spurious beliefs that made such coincidences seem so intentional? 

"Sometimes I believe so," he finally admit, with a tone almost reverent in audition. Marruz settled his incongruous gaze upon the imposing man, lifting his crown in a resilient manner. "Or, at least, I'm very keen on interpreting them."

He could tell there was something this fellow knew. It made him quick to press, "Do they also speak to you?" 

Damien's life had been spent surrounded by seers and magick adepts, so it was no surprise to him to find out about the possibility of Marruz sharing said ability. Potema, Damien's sister and with whom he had most likely spent the longest time in company, had been a talented seer, and his own mother, Meldresi Melonii, and the one that had started all of this was perhaps the most skilled witch of his lifetime, but sadly none of their supernatural skills had rubbed off on him. Damien was chained to the mortal world and there was nothing to do about it, but he understood how things worked.

Sadly, no. he admitted plainly, holding his stare on Marruz. But I've been around seers and witches my entire life. he added, not expecting the information to shock anyone. We have a vacancy for a listener, perhaps you'd like to test your skills for it? Damien suggested, honestly hoping that Marruz could impress him with his supposed ability. Still, the boy was young and Damien knew he would most likely have what it took to earn himself such a prestigious eat, but if he proved to be talented at least his new subordinates had some potential. Things like those could be worked upon, and that was what Damien was trying to achieve with what he was building here in the Weald.

Marruz tilted his head in a very mechanical and subtle way. Internally, his mind was feasting upon the words; engulfing every detail as it spiralled from the man's lips. Though perceptably a blank canvas, the stripling was amazed by the ease in which the brute professed his childhood surrounded - and no doubt isolated by - mysterious and intriguing figures. Seers and witches... Their very names struck notes of interest within the usually unperturbed youth.

When a vacancy for Listener was mentioned, he straightened his head; blinked evenly across the gloom of the Weald. Marruz had never considered how he might graft himself into the ranks of the Melonii. It had never seemed that he would hold any particular role other than simple presence and contribution to sheer sustenance alone. 

"What function does a "Listener" play?" his voice was somewhat less monotone than before, though he made a great attempt to disguise his piqued emotions. "And what skills are you looking for?"

He'd picked an interest, and Damien could tell regardless of the young one's efforts to hide it. He would give it to the kid, he had also the right idea on deception, which made him think perhaps a Spy job could fit him well. But to tackle all the topics they had to get over the one at hand, and the position of a Listener was one that Damien had especially high standards for. Not just anyone could sit in the same place that his mother and sister had so proudly owned.

Well, they listen, said Damien, but he wasn't being sarcastic or mocking the younger male in any way. His expression was dead serious and nothing in his eyes gave away any groove other than seriousness. They must establish and maintain a connection to the grand planes of Oblivion. They serve as a mortal tether to the Daedric gods, and if they do their job well they will convey their messages to us. in other words, they listened for the mortals. Would Marruz's relationship to the stars grant him the required abilities to fulfill such a sacred duty?

Marruz, indeed, listened — and very intently at that. Since a mere pup, the boy had engulfed every waking moment of his life living and breathing beneath a celestial canopy. He had to admit that, though his heart was often closed, it would never be so for the Night Mother. 

To think, however, that he could ever "maintain a connection to the grand planes of Oblivion" sounded almost too lavish for the shade. His mind contested with the flow of words, beating each until they morphed into meaning within the bulwark of his skull. He wanted to believe he could do this. So, the indigo and black pools made their subtle way back towards that familiar beacon, the void vault of vantablack purity, the sky at night.

"Then I would like to try," Marruz's words did not come quickly, but they grew louder in the evening stillness. Jaw locked; engaged, disengaged, and fussed. There was a resolution, for once, that gave way in his cryptic features.

In whatever measure Damien did feel a vibe of potential coming from the young demon, perhaps in the glint of his eye when he so confidently took on the challenge, and it brought brighter hope for Damien's plans. Yes, Marruz was probably too young to meet the standards, but he had the drive needed to make his best try, and if not a opportunity for nursing their potential then Damien's reign was nothing.

I admire your confidence, said Damien with a hopeful shine in his eye, you will make a fine asset to our clan. he admitted, and with that things were settled. Marruz was no longer a simple associate. He had unlocked the path of darkness to becoming a priest, and though Damien didn't have the experience with rituals and conjuring he was well versed on lore and symbology, and that alone should be enough to spark a flame within the young demon.

You will seek me every other day. I shall pass my knowledge on to you until we find you a proper master, proposed Damien, deeming their meeting fulfilled and quite fruitful. Have you got any more questions for now?he said giving another chance for the young male to make an impression, and like before, whatever came from his reaction would remain inked forever in Damien's opinion of Marruz.

'You will make a fine asset to our clan.' 

Those words would follow Marruz for the sequence of years that trailed. Perhaps even to the day of his death. For never had the boy heard such a promising, hopeful statement. It had to have been a lie, and yet Marruz believed that he would much rather this lie be told straight to his face than any figment of truth. At that moment, he was not just walking in the dark. 

The stars seemed brighter now, if that were even possible. They had only done so once before, upon his last night with his siblings just months prior, when he had departed for the Melonii. Yes, he knew, it was a sign of change. A sign of destinations to be reached, perhaps. Hopefully.

And then instruction was mentioned. A guide; a mentor. Someone that would direct him and teach him and explain to him all of the questions that plagued his soul. It was like a blissful melody to the ears of one who was born deaf. So, so deaf.

"As you wish," his voice grew ever the more solemn. Notes of wonder peeked through upon a rare instance of emotion. It was gone within a blink. "I assure you that I withhold a multitude of questions. For now, however, I am content with the answers I have been given." And upon his next breath, almost as an afterthought, he added, "Thank you." How strange it felt upon his tongue. It was so unfamiliar it was almost vile, but he had no way of retracting it now. And for some reason, the finality of the statement was reassuring. 

Damien found himself liking the feeling of hope he got from Marruz's diligence. Yes, he liked seeing light in his future, and though he had always been hopeful and confident of this clan as his life project it had never been as real as the last few weeks with all the promising individuals he'd come across. He had yet to assess many of his new subordinates, but so far he was satisfied with those he had.

'Thank you,' said the young one, and though it took a moment to get used to the honesty that those words carried, Damien's heart felt warm. This was what the clan was for, building a safe place for his blood to thrive, something he had always lacked in Blackfeather Woods.

The demon king nods, just as thankful as his new pupil for giving him something worthwhile. Go on, then. Get settled, he instructed, I'll see you at dusk tomorrow, and then they would begin their journey. Together.