Noctisardor Bypass trash mountain

Taking @Mahler up on his offer, Sequoia left the quartet of children with him and went off to find @Laurel. Mahler had described her as "aloof" and that was how Sequoia had last known her as well. The pregnancy appeared to have changed her, it seemed, away from the cheerful, gossiping woman Sequoia associated with the name. Perhaps her pregnancy and labor had not been as easy as Sequoia's own. Deep sadness was sometimes seen after birth, and Sequoia vaguely recalled some of this from Raven's teachings.

Sequoia carried with her a rabbit she had caught earlier that morning, hoping food might allow her friend to open up a bit more. Of all the wolves Sequoia had met in Rivenwood, Laurel was the one whose company she enjoyed the most. Praimfaya had been stiff and unyielding. Mahler was... well, an old fart with way too much baggage. The kids were great, but they didn't make for lively conversation.

As she neared, she let out a chuff and slowed her pace. If Laurel showed no signs of wanting to see her, Sequoia would drop the rabbit here and leave her be. But if she wanted to talk, Sequoia wanted that, too.

The first days of taking care of the children were both gratifying -- she felt as though dreaming when watching little Indra -- and tough -- mostly because Abel was a loud child. She had often thought that maybe she should lay on him for just a little bit, just to get a moment of peace. Or perhaps she should simply lay him out in the woods, or drop him in a river. These thoughts were bothersome to her, because she knew they were wrong; she knew she should care for him as she did for Indra. However, in practise it was simply impossible. He made it impossible.

Laurel was glad when Sequoia showed up, honestly. She'd meant to talk to her alone, from the day they'd seen each other when she had her children along. There were things you couldn't talk about in front of children. Laurel wasn't sure what she wanted to share with Sequoia and what not, though. There were just too many things that were too painful to talk about.

Heya, come in, she called out from the den at Dawnleaf's western edge, bubblier than the last time they'd met now that her wounds were mostly healed, though sounding tired.

A part of her had expected Laurel to turn her away, but it was quite the opposite. Instead, a more cheerful voice beckoned her in, and Sequoia picked the rabbit back up and entered, dropping it onto the dark dirt floor (at least that's what I imagine it's like, lol).

I brought you a snack! Sequoia whispered. It was hard to believe Sequoia's own children were once as small as the two little blobs squished against Laurel right now.

Oh my goodness, they are so little, she whispered, holding off on approaching until Laurel explicitly asked her for it.

Sequoia entered the dug out dirt den and Laurel smiled at her as she said that she had brought a snack. In an ocean of wolves who didn't give a shit about her, Laurel liked to think that Sequoia cared at least a little bit. She was the closest thing that Laurel had to a friend right now. However, Laurel also knew that Sequoia cared for Mahler in some way and she knew she couldn't tell her absolutely everything. It was hard to filter, but she supposed she'd just see what would come.

Thank you, she said with a grateful nod as she pulled the rabbit close and took a bite. Sequoia meanwhile gushed over how tiny Abel and Indra were, and Laurel smiled. She pointed out each one as she said, This is Indra, a namesake to my deceased dear sister, and this is Abel. Nobody had to know that Indra was in fact her sister; Laurel had met enough wolves to know to naturally distrust them and their judgements. She knew how even the kindest wolves could judge if they thought you were wrong, after all.

Laurel hesitated to say any more, it seemed, but in the end she returned to the rabbit and waited for Sequoia to respond first. They could talk after eating; Laurel realised after taking the first bites just how hungry she was.

Pleased to meet you, Indra and Abel, Sequoia said, glad to finally being making a proper introduction to the little blobs. You two have a great mom, and you're going to grow up in the best place on earth, she told them, casting a grin to Laurel. Rivenwood was really a good place to grow up, Sequoia thought. She couldn't attest to it firsthand, but at least her own kids (and Praimfaya's) had been doing a good job of it so far.

Praimfaya came back the other day, Sequoia said, twisting her mouth into a frown when she wished it could be good news. But she's gone again. I don't even think she saw her kids. Sequoia was too afraid to ask them, worried that the answer was no and they would feel left behind all over again. She really didn't want to make them go through that a second time.

Laurel smiled when Sequoia greeted her children and said that they had a great mom and grew up in the best place ever. Laurel herself did not entirely agree with that sentiment, but she sure hoped that it would be a good place for her children. She hesitated to ask Sequoia if she truly felt that way about Rivenwood — and why? — but was distracted by Sequoia's own statement about Praimfaya.

Oh, she said with a frown. Good to know she's still alive, but... Abel started to cry at that moment and Laurel turned to him, touched his head and said, Shh, shh, which thankfully seemed to lull him back into quietude, for now. She then turned to Sequoia and said after a short moment of silence, Do you really mean that? Do you think Rivenwood is the best place to be? Laurel wasn't really one for real talks, but she really wanted to know what Sequoia felt about, well, everything. This Wylla wolf that Laurel had literally never met, but knew was around the pack somewhere, Mahler's disregard of feelings (though Laurel wasn't sure if that was something Sequoia herself had run into) and the likes.

Yeah... Sequoia murmured at Laurel's comment about the absent mother. It was strange that Praimfaya had not stuck around. She felt especially bad for the kids, even though she liked to think that she'd done a pretty good job raising them alongside her own.

Abel began to whimper and whine, but Laurel was quick to soothe him. Sequoia couldn't help but smile, remembering those early days with her own children.

The deep-cut question Laurel asked next made Sequoia pause. A question like that didn't come out of nowhere, and she wondered what it was about Rivenwood that Laurel didn't like.

I do, Sequoia said. I'm sure there are other places out there that might suit me, but Mahler has been pretty great to me. It's not every day that you can waltz up to a pack and get exactly what you want out of life. Okay, so maybe it hadn't been exactly like that, but that wasn't too far off from the truth.

Is there something about it that you don't like? she asked, curious.

Maybe Rivenwood offered everything that Sequoia wanted out of life, but it certainly wasn't what Laurel wanted. Not anymore. Everything had changed recently. When she had first come here Laurel thought the same as Sequoia did, and thought that maybe she deserved a second chance. But it turned out that she was only the second violin to Mahler's redemption story.

Laurel hated the thought that she was some sort of charity case just because he wanted to stick by some woman that Laurel hadn't ever even met. Wylla had not even come by to say hello to her or to bring her food to sustain her newborn children. That was how insignificant a speck on the face of the earth she was to this woman.

Sequoia asked if there was anything that Laurel didn't like. Her gaze hardened and she looked away, and pleasantries lost now.

Everything.

How could she even describe it? She felt both like a charity case and she felt whored out by Mahler. He was the only one she trusted and he had told her, he'd literally told her he wanted —

And then —

Laurel's eyes grew wet and she looked away, ashamed at the very thoughts. How could she possibly explain it to Sequoia? Sequoia was probably the closest thing that Laurel had ever had to a female friend, and it was precisely because of her experience in life that she fully expected Sequoia to only twist the dagger that Mahler had thrust into her heart.

Everything, she whispered, her voice cracking. Everything here reminds me of the false pretenses that Mahler has, of his superiority complex, of his complete lack of caring, of how little I mean — Laurel choked back a sob as she got to this part. Her body was tense and she looked away, fully expecting Sequoia to lash out at her in some way or another. She, after all, got precisely everything she wanted from Mahler. She wasn't a charity case. Why would she ever support someone like Laurel, when men treated her right?

i know this is super old, but if you want to continue, i'm game!

Sequoia had not expected the reaction that came from Laurel. False pretenses? Superiority complex? Lack of caring? Oh, sweet Laurel!

Laurel, Sequoia said, her voice soft. What do you mean, how little you mean? she asked. How could Laurel be saying these things? And why did she feel this way about Mahler? It puzzled Sequoia, who had only gotten good vibes from Rivenwood's leader. Sure, he might be a little odd at times, but Sequoia didn't feel the same way as Laurel at all about him.

Still, she wanted to understand. If there was something about Mahler she didn't know, she'd rather find out from Laurel than for herself.

we can! :D good to see Sequoia back <3

Of all Laurel said, the thing that Sequoia picked out was how little she meant. Laurel felt anger creep up on her, for how Mahler had reduced her to this. She knew that she was worth more than this, but somehow it never came out; and for now, Mahler was the easiest one to blame for that. She cared so much about him, and yet he spat her out so willingly. Yet how could she ever explain to Sequoia just why it meant so much to her, in such a bad way, what Mahler had done? How could she explain that for her, it was just different to be sent out of the pack when in heat, because she was so afraid of men? Mahler was the second man that Laurel had trusted after... Me. And he had betrayed her trust like that.

It was hard to find the words to explain, especially in her distressed state. Laurel sniffled, stifled another sob and then she said: I didn't want to leave the pack, when I was in heat. I couldn't — couldn't be with another man. But he told I had to leave, he sent me to some man I didn't know. It was... Laurel took in a shaky breath, and her final word was quieter, as if she didn't truly want for Sequoia to hear it, .. Humiliating. Laurel did not realise fully that it might sound like the act itself was humiliating, like the man she was with was not a good man, even though that wasn't the intent of her words.

Sequoia listened, both confused and (let's be honest) outraged to hear Mahler had sent Laurel away like that. Sequoia knew why he had done it. He had done the same to her. But something about the way Laurel spoke of it made Sequoia feel like there was another layer to this she didn't quite understand. She certainly didn't chime in to say that Mahler had done the same to her, because Sequoia hadn't been humiliated. Frustrated? Sure. Annoyed? Absolutely. A little bit let down? Only a tiny bit.

Fuck, was all Sequioa could think to say for a moment. That's awful. I had no idea. She didn't have any magical words of wisdom to fix things, and she doubted that she ever would, but sometimes she knew that being somebody who listened was the best she could be.

There was nothing about the way Wintersbane had been that was particularly bad for Laurel, but the fact that Mahler'd sent her away like that to be with someone else in itself was. There were of course things that she didn't tell Sequoia. It didn't really help to dwell on the past like that, and it certainly wouldn't help mend things with Mahler (though at present time, Laurel was in doubt whether she ever could). If it weren't for her children, Laurel would've left Rivenwood. But now, she knew she should provide a safe home for Indra to grow up in, and so she couldn't.

After Sequoia's outraged response (which, honestly, did Laurel good), Laurel paused in silence for a moment. Then she said, I'm glad you're here, Sequoia. Laurel didn't have a lot of friends. She'd never had a lot of friends — only Indra. Sequoia being here made the situation a bit more bearable. Sometimes I wish I could just go away to a place without men. Laurel sighed and looked away as she thought about it. Would such places exist? Packs without men? Or where, at least, they didn't present a problem like they consistently had throughout her life?

Sometimes I wish I could just go away to a place without men.

Hadn't there been a place like that, once? Sequoia vaguely recalled her parents talking about one such place, although they had made it seem as though that pack was the devil personified. A pack without men, well... wouldn't that be something? And with Mahler's shitty move, Sequoia felt herself trusting him a lot less than she had before. Not that she would do or say anything to him. Still, once spring rolled around, maybe it would be a good time to move on.

I'm glad you're here, too, Sequoia said. And she meant it. She'd had a friend before, but... well. That hadn't exactly ended well.

Laurel smiled as her friend reciprocated her feelings. It was strange. She'd never really had a friend like this. It still didn't feel like they knew everything about each other, and perhaps that was just fine. Perhaps they didn't need to know all about each other's demons just to support each other. Laurel smiled at Sequoia in appreciative silence.

we can fade here, unless you got more to add? <3