Dead Empress Backwater when I dream

This is intended for @Vanadis @Atlas @Kalysta @Hera @Eros" @"Oleander"@"Asmund" and @"Ally" but Viorel wont chase other pack members away unless they appear sick.
Next round will be posted June 20th, no post order

Late morning, Broken clouds, 55F/13C

The news of Archer’s death had been earth shattering to say the least, but life had not given the Valle man long to dwell on it. The cubs had already been born and he didn’t have the luxury of sinking deep underneath the waves of grief. Instead he fought it off tooth and nail, pretended it didn’t exist, happy sunny perfect. Except he wasn’t sleeping again, and the grip of panic was becoming more and more frequent, forcing him into bouts of gasping for air and feeling like his chest was caving in. Then it would just go away and he could go back to pretending.

Letting out a shaky breath as another one of his episodes subsided, he shook out the tension in his muscles. Nodding to himself once, he was fine, he went to the entrance of the den that held the youngest of his children. Getting on his belly, he peered in, ”Seems like a beautiful day for a walk, doesn’t it?” Then he scooched back to give them enough room to exit. On second thought, he lifted his muzzle to call for his other children, they should be here for this.

At the sound of his father’s voice, Atlas crawled from the den, yawning from a day spent sleeping in the pile of his siblings. He shook himself of the dirt that clung to his fur. He toddled toward the large man, his mouth parted in a loose grin. The sun was already starting to warm the air around them and he stretched with a sigh, nose drawing in the scents of the forest.

“We’re going for a walk?” He asked, small tail wagging. He was always happy to go on a walk.

He saw the tiredness in his father’s face and his excitement faded some. Something had happened recently that had brought a sadness over his family, though Atlas wasn’t sure what it was. There was a sort of hushed grief about the wolves around him, and he wondered if his older siblings might have some insight on the matter. Certainly Hera and Kalysta wouldn’t know any more than Atlas did.

He sat down next to his father and waited for the others. He’d have wanted to walk on his own, but he knew his family would not allow that just yet.

Oleander hadn't been taking Archer's death well. As a cub, he had always been jealous and believed that Viorel paid much more attention to Vanadis' sons than him. His last memory of his half-brother had been at Clover's medicinal den. Oleander had loathed him then. And, when he recalled Viorel and Archer shouting in the distance, the pit in his stomach returned. He had never given Archer a chance like he had Eros. Now that opportunity was lost.

It was better to accept that Archer was gone... He had told Torianna something similar when she had asked after Euna. The sooner, the better. Because nothing hurt more than the pain of their absence. The thing was... Archer was dead. Presumed dead, anyway. Eros, not believing it at face value, had gone to look for him. Oleander could only offer to stay behind. In case he returned or to be there when his brother came back empty-handed. Sage, had gone missing, too, but he kept that sadness to himself and let Anatole help him look for her.

Laying listlessly in his hollow tree, the pale Valle was quiet. Meditating did nothing these days. So, when his father's howl summoned him, Oleander was more than grateful.

It took a moment and a side trip to a cache, but he eventually found Vanadis' birthing den. He smiled through the mussel shells in his jowls, trying his best to appear presentable. Like Viorel, he, too, was pretending through his melancholy. He gave his father a respectful nod before reclining down onto his belly. To be at eye-level with the first cub that had already found its way out of the den. Of course, the boy had to look almost exactly like Archer...

The corners of his mouth twitched as the muscles there were pulled. He had to give his head a shake after setting the three freshwater mussels at his paws. Anything to appear natural. His tail waved behind him and he gave a low woof to the youth seated at his father's side. If anything, despite being quite the fluffy white giant for an older brother, he meant no harm.

(This post was last modified: Jun 13, 2024, 06:57 PM by Oleander.)

they say pray it away, i swear,
OLEANDER VALLE
that I'll never be a saint, no way

Kalysta liked the den. It was quiet. Sometimes sounds filtered in from outside, voices talking. Sometimes her mom went out, but Kal never worried that she was far.

The voice she recognized as her father came into the darkness and Kal lifted her head even as her brother wriggled his way from their pile. Her nose scrunched in annoyance but she couldn't help the thrill of excitement at the prospect of following him outside. Kicking her sister off of her Kalysta crawled after Atlas, sniffing as she emerged into the light.

She huffed in slight disappointment. It didn't look all that different from the inside of the den, really. Instead of black it was kind of bright, and there were a few shadowy shapes if she squinted.

Still it was something new, so she followed her nose to her dad and butted her head against what she thought was his leg.

Her siblings were quicker to respond, making their way to the entrance of the den before she'd even decided if that's what she wanted to do. In the end, it was not her desire to leave the confines of their home that pushed her to exit, but rather, the fact that she did not want to be left behind.

Hera moved toward her father's call, her chubby body swaying as she did her best to maintain some semblance of balance as the light filtered into her eyes. It was far too bright here, far too noisy, but she persevered. If the others could do it, then so could she. Still, the cub lingered at the mouth of the den, unwilling to put too much distance between herself and what she perceived as safety.

It was rather unusual for Vana to be away from the den, but her joints were begging for a walk, so she'd had no choice but to give in to their whims. That is, of course, until Viorel's call pulled her back.

She arrived on the scene to find her children making their grand escape. It did not take long for her to glean that Viorel had acted as their ringleader, goading them out into the light. An easy smile passed over her maw, much easier than any she'd had in what felt like forever. "I take one walk and you decide it's time to let them loose?" They were plenty old enough, Vanadis knew, but now that they'd had a taste of the outside, it wouldn't be long before they preferred it.

I'M STILL BREATHING, I'M STILL BREATHING

---

(I knew what I wanted, I went in and got it, did all of the things that you said that I wouldn't)

Asmund's greatest concern over the news had been, and continued to be, the impact it had on his adoptive father. He did his best to look out for him, to keep an eye out without necessarily being perceived. To offer whatever support he was capable of. It was awful, it had to hurt, but... it would pass, right? Hadn't the grief for Sephrina?

He wasn't far, but he didn't expect to be called. Or, well... that was for him too, wasn't it? The young carnivore hesitated. While he viewed Viorel as his parent, Asmund did not see any other Valle as family, certainly not just because of that singular connection. So maybe, if this gathering was taking place at the den for the youngest brood, it was meant for blood only.

Yet if he was expected and did not show, especially at a time like this? The risk there was greater. With great trepidation masked behind stoicism, Az made his way to where the latest batch of gremlins were kept.

Contained, once. Not today. The memory of @Clover's litter becoming an everyday presence was still clear in his mind as the latest Archer-Valle trio came into view. Asmund would stop there, keeping his distance and merely observing for now.

(I told you that I would never be forgotten, and all in spite of you I'm alive, you took it all but)

---

I'M STILL BREATHING, I'M STILL BREATHING