no light, no light

Clear — Current Temperature: -15° F/-26° C @Phineas

She felt cold and far away. There was a clear explanation for the former, but the latter she could not quite pinpoint. To be literal, she was far away from the den site of her home, her literal castle of stone, supporting her, keeping her alive, wandering along the outside fringes of her borders, paying no mind to the scent that hung off of the dead trees. As she forged through the snow, there was no expression upon her face. She did not look sad or angry or happy, just...Extant. A physical body moving through a physical plane trying to get a grasp on her current situation. But the woman didn't dare walk further than this. She did not look to the east, to the west, only straight ahead to the next tree, the next rock.

Since the death of her son, she'd been quiet, perhaps brooding. Who was there to comfort her? Lucero had disappeared, her best friend disappeared just like her son's life had. She strove to become a more attentive leader, keeping to the confines of the Glen, though she seemed to neglect the matters of her people, which was likely the key to solving all of her problems. Yet she avoided this like the plague, fearful of what they would say, or what their sad eyes might convey. She didn't want pity, only normalcy. But it felt so wrong to put it behind her. Her darling son whom she had believed so hardily in, who, only weeks before, was certain that the water being frozen meant they would all die. And...And...She had promised him that no one was going to die. She'd lied to him in the worst way. She'd only wanted his utmost happiness, and he'd died alone, and she'd lied to him. Dark lips drew back as she paused in the snow, shoulders pushed back as her throat strangled her emotions.

She saw his pretty blue eyes in her mind, knowing that she would never forget them. She held onto that image for dear life. Tipping her head back, her rump dropped into the snow. She let the cold air in, golden eyes staring into space as her lungs burned. Was it like spitting on his undug grave to accept the slowly settling reality that spring was very nearly here? The whole time she knew what was "wrong". This truth that she wasn't sure she could accept and yet it was her duty. Some strange way of proving that she was dominant by creating new life. But how could she accept that when she could not even support what she had already created? Could she bear losing again?

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Phineas had barely spoken since he had buried his son -- a burial that, by any means, was far too soon. He strode through the lands like a ghost -- a phantom of discontent, his eyes emotionless as they fell upon any who sought him. Lucero's missing presence had not gone unnoticed, and yet at this point he felt numbed to the loss. Zia was the final link he had to the pack that had once flourished beneath he and Borlla -- now, strangers filtered the lands, each only hoping to stay as long as the winter winds blew. They too would drift away.. their loyalty was only spurned by pure survival instinct.

He had not meant to come across her. Borlla sat in the near distance, sullen in her slump. Swallowed by her thoughts. He knew what they were, for they haunted him as well. He stood there, allowing the cold winter wind to whip past him, and yet unmoving. He could not go forward and soothe her. There was nothing to say.

They had buried their fucking son. Kyros lay within the ground now -- not nearly as deep as need be, given the frozen grounds. He had dug until his paws bled, and still, he dared not visit the grave. Come spring. he would move him further down. To hide the stench.

Hide his boy, as if he had never existed.His breath hitched in his throat then, unable to hold back the whine that pressed past him now. In a few large strides, he moved to her then. His muzzle pressed greedily against her, his eyes shutting as he inhaled her scent. His. She was his, and he was hers. And while the pain washed over him like a tsunami, he allowed a guttural growl to release from the depths of his chest, insistent -begging her to give him a moment of freedom and release.. begging her to let him forget, if only for a few moments of pure bliss.

It hurt to think that one day she would wake up and everything would be normal again. It was cruel that the death of a loved one might one day be little more than some passing memory. She didn't desire to feel like this, no she would have given anything to turn these emotions around and thrive in spite of the winter and troubles they faced. She held onto things forever. Little things were mountains to her, and she carried a range behind her. What was this if not already a mountain? The weight of the earth upon her shoulders, threatening to crush her and it had been threatening since she'd carried him down the hill. Quietly, she struggled with this, knowing that one day she would have to move along, and yet she didn't want to.

The air stirred around her and within it she discovered the presence of her mate. Swallowing, she held her breath as he came up beside her. It was as she'd feared. But the question had been answered. Despite the rock that had settled within the pit of her stomach, she found comfort in his presence. It had been so cold, and yet in this moment, suddenly there was a glimmer of warmth. Her chin lifted, exposing her throat for a moment, before she let her head tip towards him, pulling in his scent that would forever signify safety and comfort. A quiet whine reverberated in her throat, and her hindquarters shifted beneath her hollow form. If she rose, there was no turning back. In one simple movement, she would be turning her back on her frigid first-born son. But Borlla Tainn had a duty to her mate, to her pack.

Her body gave a slight shudder as her hindpaws braced against the snow, allowing the woman to rise from the drifts. Her tail hung limply between her legs, and her eyes were molten behind pale lids. In a quiet moment, she lifted her head to glance at Phineas, before winding around, brushing her muzzle beneath his own. Back to him now, she let her paws carrying her a short length away before her thick tail swept to the side. It was a year ago that they'd come over the mountain to this land full of promise and potential. She'd been so young then, and foolish. As her golden eyes fell upon the Hills in the distance, she made a vow that she would not make the same mistakes.

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It had to be better than this.

He had determined this when he had first left Desdemona and his life in the Meadow. Leaving behind two sons that had never been his, the thrill he had felt at the birth of his very first son and daughter, and now, the pain of having one of them ripped from him was more than he could handle. What was next? To create another generation once more, and hope that in turn, these ones would thrive? If they did not, how much more could he and Borlla take before their own life would come to nothing more than ruin?

No, it had to be better than that.

She revealed her own answer to him – the tip of her chin upward would stir him to further preen at her fur, her skin. The gentle kisses planted upon her were in some way meant to soothe him as well – did playing upon his nature make him no more than a beast with only the intention to further his lineage? Perhaps. And yet he sought the solace in more youth – the thriving need to be surrounding by his family, and in turn, protect them.

She moved then, lifting herself up and allowing her scent to drift past with the wind. He paused then, captivated by her as graceful long limbs of ivory would stretch before him. Quietly, he moved after her, no question within his voice, but within his gaze. Did they truly want to do this one more time? “Borlla,” he murmured, his tone holding the unspoken question as he came closer to her, his muzzle pressing down upon her back now as he allowed his eyes to slide shut – the scent of her drove him to the edge, after he had considered it impossible for him to go any further.

A lifetime of being left behind. In her youth, she'd found herself bitter, and even now she felt the pains when she recalled their faces. She would not give them names, it wasn't worth it. But they'd been there and then they'd left. Eventually she did the same. Swift River had felt the sting of her abandonment twice, and even the rank she'd managed to rise to in her time away had been so carelessly thrown away. One could say that she had some kind of hunger for power, for she'd eagerly gone with Phineas. Yet this time had to have been different. She'd sought him out, cognizant of the consequences, knowing that at any moment, she might find herself in the wind. But it had been a year and here she was still...And she was happy. He'd remained as well, and for once everything seemed right in the world. She had a family, one where she did not wake up and fear that they might be gone.

But then it had fallen apart. This perfect picture torn to shreds, by cold, unfeeling claws. She felt stuck and hurt and terrified. But for once it was not brought upon by those that had left in the past, at least not of their own choice. Her mind brought forth images of a time that she truly couldn't remember, but she could feel the flames licking at her paws, at her face, pulling her back to drag her down with her mother and father. Her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to push the thoughts away. His touch along her back made her hackles rise, the cold skin beneath prickled. What could she say to him that would fix them both? That would help them both along?

It was a matter of life and death together. Creating a life and yet knowing that you really had no control. They could be certain that the children might never leave the den or the pack lands, but there were badgers and eagles. There was sickness and evil. They were helpless and hopeless. And yet there was the idea that their own lives would end with the death of one, albeit their son. She tried to imagine the sweet face of her son, perhaps scowling upon realizing he might not have little siblings to teach or mess with...And what about @Hypatia? They still had a daughter and she needed them more now. The girl had lost her brother and now her parents were drifting away.

No.

She let out a shaky breath, muzzle tipped down into her chest. Her eyes opened and she quietly looked to her mate, "We must." She said quietly, sadly. And yet she knew that it would get better...Somehow.

(This post was last modified: Mar 08, 2014, 03:05 PM by Borlla.)

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His gaze met hers – the haunted voice that slipped past her lips, the sadness that could swallow darkness and despair if it so tried. He pulled back then, his own heart falling before he gave a shake of his muzzle. He would never force himself upon her – bringing life to a world where there was little hope. "We have to do nothing," he stated then, flatly. The pack would thrive just fine without a litter for one year – perhaps, its growth would be stunted as such, yet the harshness Borlla had endured during pregnancy last year and her travels had proved lethal – this year could be no different.

He pulled away then, his alabaster form brushing against her uncertainly before he moved forward, sitting himself heavily upon the ground. He twisted then, bending his muzzle down and across to lick at the ruffled fur of his shoulder, allowing the silence to span between them now. Perhaps, whatever the two had before had been broken with the death of their son and there could be no fixing it. But one thing he was sure of – he would not force something that was not reciprocated.

"Less mouths to feed would not be an irresponsible decision," he then countered, this time his voice hardening in a way it had never done with her before. The wall that stood firmly between them began to build itself up further in that very moment, and even as he awaited an answer from the regal she-wolf of the land, the large male pulled himself up to stand. The cold winter wind swept past him then, reiterating his words with its biting chill.

A young pronghorn has fallen behind its herd and starved in the snow. +5 Health

Everything went so very wrong in that moment and suddenly she wasn't sure how to feel anymore. Her world, the world that she had been so certain was strong, began to shift downward around her as he moved from her. Her eyes followed him, startled, wide. No, no, he was mistaken, she hadn't meant it like that...And yet that was how she'd said it. No. The pale woman couldn't find the power to gape, fumble stupidly for some way out of this hole that she'd suddenly dug. Where had their happiness gone? Somewhere beneath the snow, obviously. She shifted on her paws, following him still with her eyes, so desperate for him to turn back and smile, say something that would fix her own mistakes.

But the silence dragged on for terrible moments more, and she could only breathe until he spoke again. His tone struck her hard in the chest and her haunches dropped for a moment as if something heavy had been placed upon her back. But she maintained her upright stance, unwilling to fall. Borlla stepped forward, each step careful and painfully uncertain. All she wanted was to be happy again, just like she had been in the months before the snow, though those months seemed so far away now, almost unreachable. "I just...I just want us to be happy again, Phineas." The woman managed, though something had tried to lodge itself in her throat.

Her muscles seized as he rose, and she prayed he would not walk away from her.

(This post was last modified: Mar 23, 2014, 03:39 AM by Borlla.)

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There is a deer that was killed by a lynx nearby. +10 Health

She did not seem to understand his words, and the ivory Argyris blinked at his mate in response. She moved then, and a part of him desired nothing more than to close the distance that suddenly spanned between them.. yet his paws would not move as the heaviness of her words settled over him. “And what will bring you happiness?” His tone was quiet – not a plea, and yet a demand for an answer. He did not know how to fix this and the only guidance he could have was from her. Moments before she seemed to simply be bating her breath, biding by his will and not hers – she did not seem to want a litter this year, and it was hard to argue that.

Impossible, almost, as suddenly he could envision the tiny white cub of his deceased son, loping along the slopes of the Glen – slow, because of his defect, and yet just as full of life as the other residents. He had been stolen.

Closing his eyes for a moment, the regal took a moment, his breath sucking in. Opening his fiery gaze, they fell upon the slender curves of his mate, the uncertainty in her stance. It was a deciding factor for the pack of the Glen, and while it would not hinder them to not have a litter this year, it certainly would lessen their growth.

“Tell me what you want, Borlla.” Because otherwise, he would not be able to bring himself to do anything.