Broken Antler Fen and armor beneath her skin

following this thread. forward dated to: 9/16.

a day has passed and though praimfaya has watched her mother die before her eyes, protecting her she does as her mother's last command bid her: she went to broken antler fen and what little bit of roangeda she'd managed to build. there were only two pledged to them and now ...now wanheda must be the bearer of bad news and tell the two women of the tragedy of what had happened and must decide what to do. should she send them on their way — would they even listen to her? she may be wanheda but she's so young — or see if they should finish what blodreina has begun ...which would involve finding a new klikalida until praimfaya came of age.

and then there was the war of guilt within her: she hadn't even waited for @Ingram. she'd just taken off, fleeing diaspora as fast as her legs would carry her. regardless of what happens now, she would not return to stay. she would go for her father but she wants nothing to do with diaspora or arrow lake in the wake of the wanlida's death. it was a cursed place ...a cursed pack, perhaps.

she breaches into broken antler fen and takes a moment to take a deep drink from one of its freshwater sources, trying to compose herself. trying to think of what she will say. she didn't want to talk about it ...but she is wanheda and she must. she must separate feelings from duty as linkoln was want to remind her the whole trek there. without further ado, she tosses her head back and calls for @Henwen.

ingram was far behind, but not so far his daughter eluded him. even now, tears still strung unashamed from his cheeks. his mate, gone forever. more than that -- blodreina, gone forever. the thought caused a new sob to choke him, and as ingram followed after his daughter he could not help but weep openly.

praimfaya's scent was thicker here, what little ingram could piece together between his snotty nose and shaky composure. he tried to howl for her, but nothing came -- nothing but a sad, pathetic squeak.

blodreina, gone. he had just hugged her that morning. he had just..

and now, never again..

"pri," ingram begged, stuttering as he crashed through the undergrowth heedless of his own welfare. he knew what his mate would have said (protect her, carry on without me,) but it didn't make anything better.

it didn't change a single damn thing.

pri, ingram comes crashing through the undergrowth after her and she turns, startled, despite being startled, then soothed and then ridden with more guilt as she looks upon him with teary frostbound silver eyes. she's been relying on the numbness she feels to keep her composure and yet it cracks and shatters the second she truly lays eyes upon him ...because he is her father and he is all she has left and she loves him. nontu, she hiccups, voice trembling as she tries and fails to grasp her carefully composed façade ...but in the moment that she closes the distance between them and buries her face into his chest she realizes that in this moment she isn't wanheda ( aptly, she bitterly thinks she is truly the commander of death now ). she is just praimfaya. just a girl who lost her mother. just ingram's daughter.

she can allow herself this, she thinks. this breaking of her heart. this moment of utter vulnerability.

i'm sorry, she whispers into his fur. it's my fault. you are wanheda. the commander of death.

The woman was slow to respond to the call, firstly because she was busy seeing off a troublesome coyote from a felled carcass and again for it contained the call for another. The golden clad woman wasn't very good at noticing her surroundings and those in it yet.

She trotted up, ears pressed forward at the distraught man within earshot behind the girl. 
"Is everything ok?" No Blodreina. Was she missing?
Her voice was soft but concerned.
She waited for what would happen next. The emotions swirled in the air, perhaps the man was the girl's father. For a moment, her ears slicked back before pressing forward again. The situation was bad, she knew that much.

ingram's cheeks were wet with shameless tears; as he glanced upon praimfaya and saw how tentatively she was held together, he could not help another racking sob. his mate -- her mother -- was dead -- if they could not cry for blodreina's parting, had they ever truly loved her at all?

and then came the apology, stolen from the lips of a child who had done nothing wrong. ingram's face crumbled, and he rushed to his daughter, to hold and embrace her. "no, pri. were you the stone?" he looked upon praimfaya's features, his own face wet with tears but free of blame. "did you shake it from its spot, or push it down?" she had not, and he knew that. he had seen that. "that is life. we cannot control how it unfolds." he remarked with a bitterness to his voice, a knowing sadness that somehow lingered long after.

ingram glanced upward with a start as he heard a voice. he had been so intently focused on his daughter -- of ridding her of the guilt she had no business being saddled with -- that he had not noticed the approach of another. his gaze flickered from praimfaya to the stranger, registering it was someone his daughter knew. "blodreina is dead." ingram shared thickly, hardly able to say it himself. his voice was dull, and he felt far away from this wretched existence.. but he was here, and he could not escape it.

not until he was dead too.

She watched them, suddenly feeling very intrusive upon their grief. She did not know Blodreina well enough to share what they felt so strongly. She could only offer condolences.
"I am very sorry to hear." She dipped her head, closing her eyes and remembering that fleeting image of the young girl's mother. 

She should leave them to delve in their sorrows.
"We will still form Roangeda, if you wish."
She waited a moment, in case either replied, then moved away. Not far enough to be completely gone, but enough to give them privacy and able to be called with a shout.

i'm going to go ahead and say this is a last post for me. :-)

i know but — but. but she'd been there. standing in the way. the wrong place at the wrong time. if she hadn't been standing there blodreina wouldn't have needed to come to her rescue like the fiercest warrior legend praimfaya knew her to be. praimfaya swallows thickly and lets out a ragged sigh, biting on her tongue. her father was right and though she does not entirely feel blameless — for if there is no one she can redirect her blame and grief and anger towards — she knows arguing will get her no where. i know. she reaffirms, letting it drop.

the approach of henwen causes her to pull away from ingram but only after an affectionate nudge to his jaw though praimfaya orients herself so she is still standing near him. he is her rock, holding her steady against the dizzying turmoil of events that has led them here. to her surprise, her father answers henwen's question and praimfaya cannot help the flinch she makes when he says it so simply. blodreina is dead. simple though the words were she could hear the thickness in his voice, the struggle he must've felt trying to put volume behind them.

thank you, praimfaya responds as the woman offers her condolences. blodreina's death was not part of the plans having been made here and priamfaya wonders if henwen would stay ...though if she decided not to there would be no upset feelings. she was just a girl, after all. just a girl standing eye to eye with what felt like an impossible task unwilling to back down just because she might get scoffed at for trying. henwen's words of support, however, morph praimfaya's expression into surprise. sha, praimfaya responds as she recollects herself. she had no intentions of giving up. she couldn't, for blodreina's sake. roangeda was my mother's dream for me and i will not give it up. a promise made, iron-clad despite the grief that twists at her heart as she looks from the woman to ingram.

henwen, praimfaya calls to the older woman, inviting her closer, noticing that the woman had moved to give them space. this is my father, ingram. dad, this is henwen. she is kru. the first that mother recruited. maybe not the best time to make introductions but praimfaya doesn't like the idea of them being total strangers all the same. at the very least, they had each other's names now.

praimfaya can feel her self control slipping, can feel the burn of heat beneath her eyes — for each time she blinks the image of a broken blodreina pinned beneath the too-heavy boulder flashes vividly in her minds eye. barely, she suppresses a shudder. i... — she's ashamed of the sudden stutter, of the way words slip from her like smoke betwixt fingers. i need to be alone for a little bit. she tells them abruptly and after pressing an affectionate nudge to her ingram's shoulder she spares henwen a glimpse before venturing deeper into the territory where she grieves in some hidden corner.

a commander doesn't cry ...and if she does, praimfaya thinks, she doesn't let her kru see it.

ingram doled a polite nod in henwen’s direction as introductions were made, but the smile normally sunning his lips did not shine.

after all, blodreina was dead.

he understood pri’s need to be alone; giving her a gentle buff of his head he watched her leave — his heart heavy yet proud for the woman she was becoming.

shall we hunt? ingram turned to henwen, ready to take his mind elsewhere. there were many tracks to scour here, and he could use the company.