Jasper Rocks brideshead revisited

For @Veho~

June 10th; Late afternoon; Cloudy; 64 ° F, 18 ° C

After leaving Tomen for Quil to soothe into a nap, Rook departed from the cool underground den. Fatherhood, thought it had come natural to him as leaves would to a tree, had left him a shell of himself. The pack and family might have had their suspicions but Rook was convinced that they couldn't see the anguish he was currently enduring. In the usual hours of solitude he kept during the late afternoon, he did as he was told: traverse the borders, report of any unusual activity, and track and hunt when he could.

Today, however, he had to stop in the middle of his route a number of times to simply take a deep breath, hold it captive in his lungs, then release it by exhaling through his mouth. By the time he had come to the banks of Jasper Rocks, he plunged his aching forepaws into the cold water and sighed. For a while it seemed that he was the only one in the world.

There was nothing but the sound of the rushing current and the whisper of the summer breeze pressing against his ears. It was no wonder now that his parents had brought his brothers here to rest. This part of Relic Lore was peaceful and quiet, as if time stood still in this very spot... unless all this calmness was Prosper and Theo's doing. Rook gave the silhouette of his reflection beneath him a skeptical scowl. It didn't matter if he believed in things such as angels and the Holy Spirit and the Devil and whatever else Kiche had told him of as a cub, he was still convinced that there were other forces at work here.

If not his older brothers, then ghosts, spirits or, perhaps, the Spirit of Wildwood itself.

Rook moved forward to bring his hindfeet into the water. He stood there for several moments with his head lifted towards the heavens. Certainly he had a reason to be here, the trick of it all was trying to balance himself and work everything out (on his own). As it was, a sort of restless stirring had begun to tie his insides in knots. It made him doubt everything he currently knew and had once been so sure of.

He loved Quil; he admired and respected her sister. He cared for his parents and he thought the world of Ryvet and his tales and experiences of lands from far away. Then, every so often, they came like spectres in the middle of night, the longing and the loneliness, the thoughts that brought him to Titan and Beren... Bishop and her pious ways...

Rook winced as he let out a soft cry; the pressure in his chest had built up so much that it felt like his ribcage was on fire. If Borden's youngest son had everything - both of his parents, his family, a mate, a son, a pack where he held precedence, a full belly and his good health - then why was it that he felt this way?

When his head leveled at last, his mismatched eyes fell to the deep pools at the bottom of the number of small cascades that snaked between the river stones. Perhaps it was inevitable; maybe Lyall's had a penchant for such things as escapism and other ways of finding "a way out." Unbeknownst to him, his sister Taima had even done such a thing; the only difference was that she took action without a second thought. It wasn't the thought of drowning or being surrounded by the currents that stormed his mind, however, it was those moments from last summer in which he had shared a summer with the ones he presently missed. He wanted to hear Beren laugh, he wanted to return Namid's smile, he wanted to be wherever Titan was. The things that were keeping him from them were copious and possibly unethical.

Continuing along that train of thought, Rook was distant, dead to the world to some extent, as he finally let himself internally break down. He had come here to hide, to pretend to pray, so he could, for once, feel like someone who was like his past self - so naive, happy, and without sin - the pentimento beneath the piece of work he had turned out to be a year later.

(This post was last modified: Jun 11, 2015, 12:44 AM by Rook.)

Chances are I have a BEN WHISHAW gif for that.

In all his wanderings, Veho had let his craft fall by the wayside. Not only was it his trade, his contribution to wolves he lived with and those he came across, but it was truly an art form. It was the knowledge of what lived and grew within the forest, and how each leaf or blossom might interact with the delicate systems woven together by the ancestors to make the wolf and his brothers. Some of these were gifts, others were would cost a penalty, and it was only education that stood as a fine line between aid and ailment. Artistry was the only world he had for it, but like all talents within this world, it would be lost if he did not constantly seek to hone and improve these skills. Thus, the male sought a bit of solitude as he traveled northward from the lagoon with the plethora of foxes. (A truly absurd site, if the vagabond did say so himself.) He skirted the marsh, unwilling to wade through yet another swampy, wet ground, truly tired of the squelch of mud between his toes. (Though despite his discomfort, he had met a truly delightful young wolf thriving in the fen.) Cedarwood Forest was a much more pleasant place to stop, and while not open plains, a more recognizable terrain, and one that the gray wolf could navigate as he sought to expand his knowledge of what grew among the tress of his new home. While searching for native plant life, a distant cry rang in Veho's ears. Crown shooting upwards, he gazed out into the distance, recognizing the voice as one that belong to a fellow wolf (and not another nosy fox, goodness). Despite his desire for peace and isolation, his pulse quickened at the notion that someone might have been injured. He set his nose to the wind to act as a compass – just because he could not detect the iron tang of blood did not mean someone had not sustained some sort of trauma. Hurrying forward, it took a few minutes for the gray wolf to come across his fellow canine standing in a stream. Several paces away, he halted – concerned or otherwise, the medicine man was well aware an injured animal may lash out at the nearest body, no matter how holy his intentions were. "Hello," he greeted the man softly, relaxing his shoulders and dropping his tail. Ears swiveled forward and he kept his expression open, eyes searching as he continued. "Are you alright, friend? I'd heard you… I can offer assistance, if you wish, my family trained me as a medicine man."

Urg, sorry for your wait! Veho sort of clammed up for a while...but as you can see, he's returned with all sorts of words know. Wolves, jeeze.

Rook had not anticipated being found out, let alone being discovered by someone who had heard him cry.... Someone who was not apart of the pack. Startled, the masked youth filled his lungs with a sharp gasp as he turned to immediately regard the man who had come upon him. His jaw quivered and his ears momentarily drew back as he tilted his head to convey his sadness. The expression didn't last long, however, and eventually a small, somewhat assuring smile appeared on his face for a fleeting moment.

"I can offer assistance, if you wish," the other brute continued without pause, as though he were otiose or open for conversation without having someone's calls to answer to, "my family trained me as a medicine man." Assistance. Family. Medicine. To Rook those words seemed to reverberate within him, making his soul feel as though it could have gathered in his chest and lilted about his beating heart. "You know... a-about medicine?" he questioned as his ears perked up with unmistakable interest. "What of it?" The latter of the two questions seemed to have some bite in it, but still Rook, by body language alone, was very much riveted by him.

He sniffled once, his eyes dropping to the water's surface before meeting his companion's gaze. "There is no medicine in existence that will cure this ache," he carefully chose his words, his voice enunciating each word as though he were capable of reading written poetry. "No herb that will numb the agony that has fallen upon these woods." This was it, he was absolutely vulnerable now.

"I need help; I can't do this on my own."

His tail came up as if to wag, but it plopped back into the water. He turned away in shame, "S-sorry. I just... I'm under a lot of stress. Obviously." The lifting of his left paw brought him slightly deeper into the water, "But I would advise you to go back from whence you came. There is too much heartache here."

Chances are I have a BEN WHISHAW gif for that.

Startling the other male had not been his intention, the gray wolf grimacing internally as the stranger inhaled sharply.  As he turned, the medic found himself wondering if he had perhaps misread the situation – the younger animal looked almost on the verge of a breakdown.  Was his suffering this deep, he asked himself, concern flickering across his pale, moonlight gaze as he risked another step forward.  Before he could muster an appropriate query (for this situation must be handled delicately, he wished to heal, not break the fragile soul into a thousand tiny pieces), he found himself under a line of fire. "I-" he began, only to be silenced again as the smaller male allowed his plight to fall free from his mouth.  Something coiled tightly in Veho's chest as he listened raptly, ears pricked forward as he hung on every word.  Only at the end of the abbreviated rhetoric did he move his wide paws, quickly following the wayward wolf into the water's edge.  Safety seemed the furthest from the man's conscious as a low, guttural sound rumbled in his chest.  Leathery nose extended, brushing against the pack animal's ruff in what he hoped to be a friendly display, but a small offer of comfort in what was obviously a time of need for the other wolf. The Ancestors had guided him this way with a clear purpose in mind, he realized, and he would not let the ancient spirits down in this regard.  It was a new challenge, but he would not be so easily turned away by the other's plight.  "There is nothing but heartbreak from whence I came," Veho replied easily – he could never return to the reservation, devoid of anything but the ghosts of better times and the spirits of those stolen too soon.  "But to answer your earlier question, yes.  I am a medicine man, trained by my pack and man's pack to use the earth around us to help and heal…at the Ancestors' discretion." He allowed himself to bob his head once in a small display of respect for all those who'd come before him.  With this, he retreated once step, not wishing to crowd the wolf whom obviously suffered the weight of the world on his shoulders.  "They guided me this way now.  You need not suffer alone, friend.  I will help you, if you so allow me – not all medicine comes from the green things that grow all around us."

Eek, sorry for the wait.  Holy cow, but this thread is doing a world of good for Veho's muse.  *  ^  *  I should just start here from now on, sdfjkasdf.   Totally digging it.  <3

(This post was last modified: Jun 26, 2015, 12:05 PM by Veho.)

For what seemed like a eternity, Rook remained where he stood. It became clear here that what Taima lacked, breathed and thrived within him: self-worth, perseverance, and perhaps a bit of resignation in the sense that Bishop (in her absence) had instilled an unrelenting notion of faith. It was his selfishness that kept him breathing, the determination to keep his promise kept him firmly rooted just at the edge of the shallows, the uplifting sensation in his chest that his prayers had been answered here and now anchored him and averted his eyes away from the bottom of the cascades. His muzzle dipped downward as he stared again at his shadow rippling beneath him on the water's surface, waiting for the male to leave. The fact that Rook's sadness had a certain kind of appeal, though, continued to ring true; and, just like the others, the ashen male joined him in the water to offer a comforting touch to his neck. The Lyall's eyes closed.

"There is nothing but heartbreak from whence I came," the stranger replied. Then, what came soon after was an introduction of sorts, including an answer to his question, what he was and how he had come to be, a hint of his own beliefs (which brought to Rook the realization that there were possibly other forces at work here), but not his name. It was here that Rook felt him withdraw from his side and he opened his eyes to take in the fullness of his face to take in the subtle familiarity of it. His bear-like ears came up and he let out a small whimper from his throat.

His nostrils burned with unbidden sniffles, the next set of words calling to him on a deeper level than before. For everything, a reason. He took a small step forward, turning now to face the river bank and the slightly taller frame of the other young man.

"You'll help me?" he questioned as if in unnecessary doubt. "You'd... you'd stay?"

Chances are I have a BEN WHISHAW gif for that.

"Of course I would," the monochrome wolf replied without a moment's hesitation. What had this other male experienced that he had so little hope in a friendly offer? Veho supposed he was a stranger still, but he wore his honesty on his face and often hoped those he met could read his intentions through body language and expression. It made it all the more vital, he thought, that he do whatever he could to help the slightly smaller man, be it through traditional methods or something a little more outside his wheel house. That would require him to understand a bit more of the man's situation, he supposed. A good place to start was his name, so he could refer to him as more than 'the man' or 'the pack wolf' within the confines of his own mind. "Of course I would," he reassured his new acquaintance once more. "I can stay as long as my assistance is needed. As I said before, I simply travel where the Ancestors wish of me – once my business is complete here, they may direct me elsewhere. But until they call upon me, I am at your service." With that, he offered a short bow, allowing a small smile to grace his muzzle. "You may call me Veho, my friend. Veho Macieo, medicine man and avid wanderer." It had been some time since he lived among a group, and it always felt queer to refer to the pack that had long since dispersed. Memories would not bring it back. "And what may I call you?"

The assurance that Rook had so desperately craved for ushered in his direction by four simple words, "Of course I would," If it weren't for the pronounced scent of evergreen and the earthy aroma that clung to his shoulders, he might have thought that he was still living as he was a few months ago: alone and fraught without much family to keep, attempting to gather as many volunteers as he could in his quest to help heal his father's malady. That small, troubled smile came to rest on his black-lined lips again as he came to learn that this wandering soul would remain with him until he was no longer needed or called elsewhere. Any skepticism that might have arisen from the inward thought of needing this stranger for as long as he lived - it was not just Borden's mind and Jaysyek's worrisome heart that he feared for, but his own strife that adulthood had hurled at him - but even that fell away at the mention of his name.

Had @Namid mentioned her last name of Macieo, Rook would have been in shock, convinced that some form of lost love had come back to him at last. Without that form of familiarity, it merely seemed as though he had been struck by something akin to attraction and all the sinful things that came with it. If Bishop were here, he was of a mind to think that she might belittle him for staring or, in all actuality, gawking. He sheepishly closed his mouth as his tail lifted out of the water.

"Rook," he almost said. "Like the bird." Almost instantly, he inwardly scolded himself; if anyone found out that he had broken a pack rule that he, himself, had put into effect, he would have figuratively spat in all their faces and would have been looked upon in disdain. "Gaheris," he offered in exchange, wading closer to the shore where the water only reached to the middle of his forearm. Conflict immediately churned in his belly, he hated to lie, but this was for his family's protection. "It's a nickname," he added, as if the words alone could lighten the burden that had accumulated on his mottled shoulders. Maybe it was for his own good; and, if Veho decided to stay, he would be rewarded in learning Rook's true name and title.

"So, what type of medicine isn't green and doesn't grow?" he asked, his melancholic tone lifting a bit to a more neutral note. "Is there anything to help with, say, lost memories?"

Chances are I have a BEN WHISHAW gif for that.

"Gaheris, then. It is my pleasure." What that stood for, he had little idea – he might ask, he thought, when the younger wolf wasn't so distraught. He offered no last name, but some souls were simply born without them. Others still abandoned them as they reached adulthood, not wishing for the strings attached or the memories associated with a family calling. Whatever the reason, it was Gaheris' own. Humming softly, he was pleased enough to turn the topic to something he understood a bit better. Healing wasn't simply a task or a role, but a craft and a lifestyle. "All sorts of medicine," Veho tried to explain, slowly turning out of the stream in search of a drier place to rest. "It doesn't need to be ingested to help. Sometimes it is what we set free that helps us the most – and that is cure, isn't it?" he rumbled, thinking back on his mother. She'd explained this when he was still a puppy, long before he'd realized what he wanted to do with himself – explained it when he and his littermates were trying to understand the cope loss of their sister. "Sometimes it is the sun and the air and the quiet that we need – or sometimes our ailments require us to reach back to our ancestors. But I suppose it would be very difficult indeed for me to make any suggestion based on your name alone. Heartache could mean…anything." Veho trailed off with that, shaking himself off gingerly as he beached. Where he found a dry patch, he settled down, turning to study his new companion. "We don't have to talk if you don't wish to, I suppose I should add. Don't mind."

Rook swallowed hard, all of his hopes and expectations hanging on edge for what Veho might say, what he might divulge during the course of their conversation. He genuinely smiled, however, with the idea that his companion felt glad to have made acquaintances. Rook shifted his weight forward, pressing his paws into the silt beneath his feet as if it would ground him. His head canted to one side in serious thought as he was enlightened to the fact that not all medicine was ingested in order to have some sort of healing effect. He was about to ask what that initially meant but figured to let him finish. "I suppose," he commented to concur with what the other man had just suggested. A small grown might have appeared on his dark mask but it did not linger for long, merely an expression of consideration and reflection on the matter.

"Sometimes it is the sun and the air and the quiet that we need," Veho further explained, "or sometimes our ailments require us to reach back to our ancestors." This bit had Rook's tail suspended above the water in a slow but inquisitive wag, but he kept quiet. "Heartache could mean…anything."

"Indeed." In his head a long list of painful instances from the months before began to gather at the forefront of his mind, making his chest feel like a heavy stone had been put at the base of it. Perhaps it was a good idea now to get out of the water. When his companion moved from the water, Rook followed suit, giving his coat a good shake and reclining down into a sphinx-like position. He stretched his stocky forearms and paws out into the space in front of him. A sigh left his lips when Veho mentioned that they did not have to talk, more so in relief rather than exasperation or irritation. "Thank you," he murmured, his mismatched eyes going to the other's cream-hued limbs.

Rook's mind went off on a tangent on how soft he thought the fur there might be if he nestled his cheek against them in passing. The corners of his lips quivered as if he had been having a hard time smiling again. "Talking helps, though, I find. For me, it's just... hard to find someone who'll listen." He fell quiet for a while as he glanced down to the nubs of his nails at the ends of his paws, and he wondered if his late siblings might be above him somewhere, scowling at him for thinking that they did not listen to his heaven-bound pleas and prayers. "I'd like to share my story with you, if it's all right and if you'd like to listen?" Nervousness skittered up and down his spine in a hot flash, "I think I-I could benefit from your company."

Chances are I have a BEN WHISHAW gif for that.

Once the lithe male drew forth from the river as well, the elder made himself comfortable.  There was no reason for him to mistrust Gaheris – he could see no dangerous shadows dancing in his mismatched gaze and his body language was associated with that of suffering, not of a wicked creature plotting the demise of a random associate.  It took a truly special sort to attack someone just met, and if that was the price the Ancestors wished him to pay, the male supposed he would have to face his recompense.  With a soft sigh, the vagrant stretched forward into a bow, his spine rounded towards the earth before he allowed himself to close the gap, hitting the dirt with a soft thump. Curling his forelimbs beneath himself, Veho glanced back towards his companion in a silent invitation for the other wolf to make himself as cozy as he wished.  Thick tail wrapped around his haunches, he gave a short nod.  "Of course I will listen," he assured the pack wolf, a smile lingering in pale, moonlit eyes.  "Talking is one of the best cures there is.  I believe there is a great power to releasing what ails us to the world – it can't continue to poison you if it's no longer inside." This was true of all beings, he felt – hadn't his mother released him of his anger when faced with his inability to do anything for Neha in the wake of her illness?  "No matter what my siblings might tell the world, I am a good listener.  I like to listen, and you have my attention as long as you'd like it," Veho clarified, his tail sweeping behind him in a slow arch.  "You can settle down here, if it makes you more comfortable.  Or stay up there.  Whatever feels better."

(This post was last modified: Jun 27, 2015, 11:48 PM by Veho.)