Dead Empress Backwater I wave goodbye to the end of beginning

Oleander, as of late, felt life had left him jaded. With the comings and goings of all his pack mates, he almost didn't care anymore who was here and who wasn't. What felt like the near-constant shuffle of the pack hierarchy failed to faze him. Sage's continual absence did nothing but accelerate the spiral he was stuck in. Yet, when the howl met his ears, something within him perked up.

Tuwile.

His brother barely ever made a sound. Never spoke, neither whined nor barked. Whenever Oleander saw him in passing, there was only silent acknowledgment. Nothing more.

Somewhere in the darkness, the rustling to his left was Clover's upcoming arrival at the scene. His pace hastened after her. Two racing specters in the night.

Like her, Oleander felt out of place. He stopped short of the group as if there were some invisible line drawn in the forest debris. Pale eyes drank in the scene. From Ozark to his father and baby sister, to his brothers, and then to his niece Ally and cousin Jacynth. His ears and tail fell as he finally laid eyes on Tuwile and the man who had been his granduncle.

Oleander faltered to one side as Clover stood beside Khalon and Tuwile. Spidery limbs anxious as he swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. Another dead, and there had been nothing he and Clover could have done. He averted his gaze, sitting down in the quiet. Just as he had done in the past, he, too, would help lay Rochus to rest.

         

OLEANDER |

Nobody gets me like you do I'm not the same, not after you

It's time to strap our boots on

Conquest

This is a perfect day to die

Torianna kept her distance, lingering towards the edge of the group, her eyes locked on the form that laid there… now unmoving. Her face was stoic, and in many ways she blocked out the rest of the world. Her gaze focused on him… on her grandfather, the one true piece of her father she had left that she didn’t entirely hate, like she did her brothers or her sister.

And he was simply gone… just like her dad. Resentment gripped in her stomach, fighting to keep a snarl from rising on her features, too rigid to be mourning but too unfeeling to the eye to be angry either… a torrent of feelings riding around in side of her like some jealous pit.

What was so great about the afterlife that he’d leave her? It didn’t lessen the intensity of her amber gaze, unable to spare looks to her brothers or mother.

Instead, she allowed the resentment to harbor, building into her, hoping she could keep it contained to not explode at the thought of anyone trying to speak to her.