Limestone Bluff leave this blue neighborhood

RE: The sky is dark with storm clouds. For @Veho. Also, sorry, needy Rook = angsty Rook. :c He does have a reason to feel this way (for a #roho thread), I promise. We'll uncover that soon enough.

September 21; Evening; Partly Cloudy; 47 ° F, 8 ° C.

Rook needed to get away. It seemed like there was no more hope anymore. Another fight, another squabble, and the boy had left his father to his own devices. Rook simply had no more patience for the aging man and, for that, it was just too bad. While Borden was left at the pack den, the Grizzly Hollow Leader let his feet aimlessly eat up the ground, sprinting as fast and as far as his limbs could take him.

Denial shouldn't have hurt this much.

His ears were slicked back and his tail stretched out behind him like a white flag in the wind. His eyes stung from the onslaught of the coming storm, willing the tears to remain where they were. He wouldn't cry; he would save those for a different time and a time such as that was nothing compared to this wave of distress that would soon come to pass. It was just another storm. It would come and it would go, then there would be a time of calm and, perhaps, some sunshine and warmth before the next tempest rolled in.

A raindrop hit him somewhere above his left brow, catching in his fur for only a second before being shaken to the ground. At the foot of the bluffs, his mismatched eyes looked up towards the darkening sky. If lightning struck, the bluffs would be the perfect spot to be closest to it all; and, if he could be there at the right spot at the right time... His mottled head gave a shake. He'd never heard of anyone being struck by lightning (if that was even plausible) and he wouldn't even want to imagine himself as being the first.

Where the forest came to meet the tower of stone, Rook lingered, pacing in hopes his heartache would finally give way to actual grief. The sooner he grieved, the better. To him, it would possibly mean less pain and more acceptance on his behalf. He hadn't come to terms about his parents dying and he wasn't sure he was ready to despite everything he constantly told himself day in and day out. The torch had long since been passed, all that was left to do now was to make Borden comfortable and he was failing at even doing that.

The winds swept through the trees and up against the crags towering over him. It roared in his ears and forced him to close his eyes until it passed. It was the closest he could get to what might have become of him on that fateful day with Veho if the wandering medic had not come when he had.

His dirtied limbs folded beneath him and he tucked his nose to his left forelimb. The thought of returning home crossed his mind but he whisked it away. As anchored as he was to the lands that he helped secure for his family's sake, one night away from the borders could have been enough to set his sights back into perspective...

(This post was last modified: Sep 23, 2015, 03:06 AM by Rook.)

Chances are I have a BEN WHISHAW gif for that.

Oh, with the rain again, Veho groused internally, pausing for a moment to set his mushrooms down. A large leaf was quickly selected and plucked from its stem, one of the remaining green, supple pieces in the forest, and quickly set it on the ground. The small handful of treasure was quickly nosed into the center before the man picked up his parcel – any further harvesting would have to wait. Allowing his current prize to get wet would be worse, but he would have to return at least handful more times to have a cache set to last him a winter while still communicating with his Ancestors.

The male had returned to his medical den to store his items, only to realize then he’d left the rest of his package back in the forest. With an irritated huff, the grey wolf backed right back out of his cavern and wheeled about on his haunches. Now he was forced into an actual run, much more active than his preferred trot or lazy lope, and Veho’s earthen ears folded backwards with the effort. He’d made it out of the pack lands, breaking from the forest near the bluffs – clearer land would allow him to cover the ground more quickly – and began to sprint when a very familiar pelt caught his eye.

Screeching to a halt, paws skidded across dried pine needles and loose stone. The gathered stems were flushed from his mind as he gravitated towards the folded form, chuffing softly as jogged over. His nose dropped low, brushing into Rook’s ruff. “Hello, love,” he murmured softly, thinking little of the petname bestowed to the alpha’s crown. “You’ve picked a terrible time for a nap. I believe it is about to storm, my dear. We ought to find shelter.”

I hope you don't mind I jerked this table. All the roho love. ;~; <333

The rhythmic pounding of footfalls against the earth should have caught his attention at first; what did, instead, was that all-too-familiar voice curling against his eardrums and stirring the beating heart in his chest. “Hello, love. You’ve picked a terrible time for a nap.” The Leader briefly interjected with a soft cry of his own. "I believe it is about to storm, my dear. We ought to find shelter.” Rook's head rose, his movements slow and shaky. The guard hair all across his body along his spine and rump clumped together in spiked tufts that showed the true dark colors of his undercoat. It wasn't so much that he was cold or frightened, he merely yearned for the words and company that would put his numerous worries at ease.

Tipping his muzzle and head upwards to see Veho, pale and bright against the backdrop of swaying evergreens and rolling thunderclouds, he blinked once before standing up. Along the ground, his gaze panned horizontally for the tunnels he had thought to hide in before inwardly fighting with himself about whether he should stay out here or go straight home and sleep the storm away in Quil and Tomen's den.

Another whine came from him, his nose feeling as if though it were frozen from the chill in the air. He didn't want to unload his troubles just yet; he needed to sort them first, that is, if he could manage to stop fretting. Unsteadily he turned about and meandered across the grounds against the bluffs above, not stopping until he finally staggered into what was a sizable tunnel. It would do for now, so long as he had the medic's side to bury his face into. Rook did not want to admit it but the expanse of warm gray fur had become something of a security item - like a human child's woobie or binky - for him and any prolonged separation from Veho caused him mild distress.

He settled down onto the cool earth with a soft thud, his mismatched eyes watching and waiting for when his companion might do the same.

Chances are I have a BEN WHISHAW gif for that.

For a brief moment, Veho caught the wind’s chill, a shudder raking down from the blunt curve of his dark nose to the edge of his ink-dipped tail. Fear tickled his spine as he cast a watchful eye over the alpha – had Rook been injured? Had he fallen ill? A thousand scenarios with a thousand awful outcomes whipped through the wolf’s mind as he studied his partner, ears falling back against his skull as the whine was answered with one of the medic’s own. Reedier, needier, he wished only to know if the younger male was alright, but it seemed the masked man was not yet ready to share his words.

Chest constricting about his heart, he allowed the alpha to lead them from the open swatch of land to one of the many tunnels littering the limestone bluff. It was of decent size, though perhaps of a bit too much girth, allowing a chilly breeze the blow by the wolves as it whistled on through the cavern. Still, it went back deep enough to allow the pair shelter from the rain, already morphed from an ominous sprinkle to a steady drizzle – the inevitable downpour was only moments away. Once Rook found a comfortable position to settle in, the delta was quick to follow suit, pacing after the other wolf in ground-eating strides.

He circled once, twice, and the medicine man settled against the cold earth with an equally boneless flop, taking a few moments to reorganize himself. Once Veho had stopped squirming, he’d pressed himself up against his partner, pushing his nose against one ear as he exhaled softly. Here, they were safe, and he wrapped his fluffy tail around Rook’s haunches. “What’s wrong, my dear,” he whispered, the secret resting between the two of them. “What troubles you?”

Please let me fix it.

Eyes trained on the pouring rain outside, Rook felt Veho cozy up behind him, nestling his head against his. The Leader's jaw jumped. "What’s wrong, my dear,” the medic's concern came. “What troubles you?” There was another whine, an array of emotions flickering across his masked face. After several minutes, he was able to sort out just what he had wanted to ask. There would be no blame or anger or bared teeth; he just needed the truth. "My Dad's not getting any better, is he?"

His gaze dropped to his paws, his ears folding back. He thought back to when he had seen his old man just hours ago. "You're not Rook!" Borden had yelled into his son's face. "You're not my son!" It stung. Never had he thought to realize his condition would get this bad. Then there came the endless questions and run-around assertions: Where's Taima? Is Jaysyek safe? And Trisden and Hocus? Get Kade! Get Ava! You impostor... You'll rue the day you've come here...

By the time the patriarch had even started asking a number of queries, Rook had steeled himself. Take flight... it wasn't worth the fight anymore; and, perhaps, Borden was right. He wasn't his son... at least, not the one he remembered. The one he loved was probably younger than he was now, the adventurous boy who loved those riverside talks against a backdrop of silhouetted trees and the setting orange sun. At this point, Rook, some Borden-lookalike (as far as Borden was concerned), was no longer the pacifier; he was the agitator now and that would surely not sit well with any of Borden's other caretakers.

Involuntarily, he flinched. Not wanting to turn or even roll over as to meet his companion's gaze, he remained in place, not even ready to lean his damp shoulders back into Veho's warmth. "And he's... going to die soon, won't he?" a sniffle escaped his muzzle and he glanced downward at the bits of limestone that had crumbled from the tunnel sides. The anguish hit him now, square in the chest, and it was audible in his tone, laced in his words, "I won't... I won't be one of the last things he'll remember. Will I? I'm too new for him. To him, Bishop and I never existed."

Chances are I have a BEN WHISHAW gif for that.

Oh. Oh. They were going to have this talk.

Usually, Veho would prefer to bring the topic up himself, try to ease any family members into the notion. It was not a common situation, as he usually dealt with small injuries or illness. Perhaps more important was his vagrant lifestyle, rarely sticking around in the same place for several days. It was always doing his best and then off, on his way, looking for his next calling and next opportunity to help.

It took the male several moments to compose himself, battling internally if he should tell the truth. Rook deserved the truth, to be able to face the news before it came. Eternal sleep would come for Borden sooner rather than later, and if the alpha was given time to process the information before the event actually took place, perhaps he would cope with the loss when it finally came. A heavy sigh fell from the man’s lips as he rearranged himself, wriggling on folded limbs as he tried to curl around his partner, ensuring the younger wolf did not feel alone in this.

“No. Borden is not improving,” he murmured softly, moonlit eyes closing as he pressed his nose to one cupped ear. That was not so much a new piece of information so much as an affirmation of what the youngest son already new. It was not only Rook who so it, but Titan, and likely other members of the pack as well. While the former patriarch had his lucid days, more and more often he asked after wolves long gone, or found himself in the past. On these days, even Veho had little ideas how to help, outside of offering herbs he knew to ease pain and confusion – as a more recent addition to the Grizzly Hollow pack, he knew little about the ghostly events and wolves who may or may not have filtered in and out of the Lyall patriarch’s life.

Nosing at his partner’s ruff, the older male steeled himself and pressed onwards. Rook had other questions. Rook had questions he already knew the answers to, but needed to hear the words from someone else.

“Borden is dying, yes,” he sighed, wishing he did not have to deliver such unfortunate news. “With his mind goes his health. I am sure you have noticed his aches and pains have increased, and it is not just the drop in temperature that has brought this on. He is old, Rook. The Ancestors will call him back, soon, and when he goes, he will be at peace. Understand that this is not comfortable for him, either, my dear. He is confused, and in pain. I am sure it quite upsetting to look at a face and feel the name just out of reach.” The wolf trailed off, nibbling on the younger male in an attempt to calm him. Oh, this was news no one ever wanted to hear. How to make it tolerable? “You still existed, you still exist, love. It is harder to distinguish time for him. I know it is hard, but you must be patient, and gentle. He loves you, remember this. He will love you always, even when he crosses the veil.”

I apologize for any craziness that will be inflicted upon Veho. :/ Rook + the stages of grief do not sit well and may play like a broken record...Fenru-style...

the writing's on the wall

"No." Veho imparted, "Borden is not improving." His head bowed forward, a pain in his chest making it feel as though his lungs were contracting, near-collapsing. One sting more and he could very well spin into hysteria, unable to breathe. "Borden is dying, yes," there it was. Rook started to hold his breath, to keep himself from shuddering. In all characteristic rebelliousness he shook his head as he listened to Veho continue on.

"With his mind goes his health." Rook's head turned to one side before shaking again in denial, still focused on the storm. "The Ancestors will call him back, soon, and when he goes, he will be at peace. Understand--" The Leader whined, wishing he had enough air in his chest as to drown out the rest of the medic's words. "--that this is not comfortable for him, either, my dear."

His sobs got the best of him at last. Yes, he might have existed but not in Borden's mind. Not anymore... and this was the bane of all of Rook's present tribulations. "He might as well go now," he barked, inwardly regretting that he had said it as soon as the words had fled his lips. "I might-- I might as well be dead to him. So--" A whimper distorted his words and he had to repeat them once he had pressed his head to the tunnel wall, tears falling from his two-tone eyes. "So likewise."

"I cannot grieve anymore," he sniveled. "I can't do this anymore. He can't do this anymore... He isn't even my father. Not like this; the Borden there does not love me. The father that loved me has already died."

His temple slid down so that his chin finally rested on the ground; he raised his left paw to cover his face. To hide from Veho the tears that had already stained the triangular markings on his cheeks. "If I asked you to put him to sleep, could you?"

Chances are I have a BEN WHISHAW gif for that.

“You and I both know that to be untrue,” Veho barked in returned, momentarily stunned by his partner’s cold response to the acknowledgement that his father was fading.  “That he cannot pull you up in a moment does not make you dead to him, and it is very cruel to discard your father now that he is not so easy to care for.  He raised you, Rook Lyall, and he made you to the wolf you are today.  I did not think abandonment was in your nature,” the older wolf scolded, drawing away from the embrace as he furrowed his brows.  He thought to offer comfort to a grieving son, and while he’d experienced anger towards the dead (or dying) when one had trouble coping with the loss of one so dear, it had never quite played out like this.  Oh, yes, clinically he knew each soul was different, and none would ever handle such poor news the same, but still!  To suddenly erect a barricade between himself and his fading his father seemed incredibly callous, especially for the masked man sitting in front of him.

That he was so taken aback by the outburst truly had nothing on what he would be asked next.  The medicine man might have tried to make a comment that this Borden and that Borden were still the same.  He might have tried to reason that even though he was confused, and that confusion bred fear, and often fear gave away to anger (something Rook seemed to be experiencing himself), that was no reason to cast him off as a stranger no longer recognized.  All these remarks died on his tongue, though, with the alpha’s final request.  Pale eyes grew wide as his head reared back, disbelief written openly on his face before a scowl quickly took its place.  Muzzle snaking forward, Veho delivered a sharp nip to the younger male’s nearest ear, a soft growl falling from dark lips as if he were punishing a particularly unruly child.

“That I could does not mean that I would,” he hissed, withdrawing his warmth from Rook’s side, studying the other male with a sharp expression.  “You insult me as a healer – my ability and my integrity both.  What makes you think that Borden is ready to sleep?  That his life is more difficult does not mean that he is ready for it to end suddenly.  How do you know there is not something he still wishes to accomplish?  Death is rarely in our paws in the first place, but it is a very dangerous game to think you have the right to decide it for someone else,” Veho growled, the sudden anger welling in his chest.  For days, he had been struggling with his relationship with the man, but it seemed all arguments died away whenever the alpha was close.  His presence was soothing, and sought after – for perhaps the first time, he found himself quite angry with the younger man, ears sweeping backwards as his tail thrashed erratically, only making his unhappiness all the more evident.  “Have you spoken with your brothers on the matter?  Have you sought your mother’s input?  That is her mate, after all.  What if @Quil was stolen from you so suddenly, that @Tomen decided he could not put up with her any longer?  No, Rook, this is not for you alone to decide.  You may choose whatever is right for you, but as his medic, I would not allow you to do this to him without consent.”

(This post was last modified: Oct 08, 2015, 06:04 PM by Veho.)

...and this is where we try to separate Skoll from Rook. Also, sorry for the sport/chess references; we can't help it.

a million shards of glass

The remorse churned in his chest, the feeling all too familiar. This was his immaturity talking; this was not the Leader of Grizzly Hollow nor the the son that Jaysyek had raised. It was the cub whose insolence and selfishness demanded that all eyes be cast upon him like spotlights... for all the wrong reasons. This Rook was the one that Maksim and Kisla Baranski had chased, the brother that Bishop had begrudged, the boy whose unyielding views were bound to send him to the den with one hell of a scolding...

There was a sharp nip to his ear and the pain that befell his forward-turned ear reminded him of where he stood and who he was. In unison, two more tears fell from his black-lined eyes, sniffing once as he comprehended that Veho wouldn't help him do what he asked, that it was not his choice to decide when Borden's life came to an end. Upon the mention of his brothers he shook his head, sorely realizing now that they would have fought him tooth and nail over what he had just suggested. They had known Borden longer, spent their childhood enriched with a father who was in his right of mind; Rook, in contrast, had not just had less time, but he and his sister had grown up with Borden where their roles were reversed. Instead of cub-sitting younger siblings as their brothers and sisters had, the twins had spent their yearling months looking after their father.

At first it had been manageable though, now, after his condition had come this far, Rook could not help but to wish to see Borden suffer less. Veho had been right however and, for that, Rook merely laid on the floor of the tunnel, angry at himself for even opening his mouth. After several minutes of not talking the Lyall nestled his nose into the side of his left forelimb, curling into a tight ball and failing to steal even the smallest of glances at the Medic at his back. "I'm sorry," was all he could think to say as his eyes focused on the tips of his toes on his hind feet. "You must think I'm terrible."

"My brothers already do, and so does Bishop, wherever she is. It wouldn't have made a difference, but I-I miss him. I can't even see him anymore with out him being... triggered. I just want to see him look at me one last time with that smile that could light up a million sunrises, as though I was the reason for his happiness in that hour, and hear him say those that simple, stupid greeting, 'Hey, rookie. What's the score?'"

"It used to be a game that was meant for just us. Me and him. Now he's all but forfeit and I'm still obligated to play... I don't want to play anymore. It doesn't make sense to miss him when he's still there... but not there at the same time. I cannot smile at him and pretend we've never met. What do I do?"

Chances are I have a BEN WHISHAW gif for that.

Perhaps a few moments to collect their thoughts were what they both needed – while the alpha curled up on himself on the stone floor, Veho focuses on his breathing. It was very rare indeed he lost his temper, and it took the wolf several moments longer than usual to rein his emotion back where it belonged. As a medic, as an advisor, as a friend, he owed it to his leader the clarity of mind, at the very least. While he did not feel guilty for his brief outburst, for he was truly insulted by the notion that he would actually lay Borden to rest while the man still had enough of a mind to determine whether or not he wished to remain awake or rest in eternal sleep, holding onto that anger would do neither party any good. After a those few minutes of clarity, he reached forward, crawling on his belly to return to the other man’s side.

“I forgive you,” he murmured, and that, the medic meant. He had no reason to begrudge Rook, and offered his partner another gentle nudge as he sighed gently. “I do not think you are terrible, my dear. We all grieve differently. I was…very angry after Neha died. As the oldest, I felt it was my responsibility to help her. Protect her. She was very sick, and under a year old, I’d no training at the time. There was literally nothing I could do for her. And I thought to myself: there’s a grief that can’t be spoken. There’s a pain that goes on and on. But all the same, I felt so guilty, I wanted to fix it, I made it my business to protect Namid from everything. In the end, that is what drove her away from the small clan, I believe, that I wouldn’t just let her be her own person. So, no, I do not think you are terrible. We all deal with grief in strange ways – sometimes it is hard to foresee what outcomes our actions might produce. That is why I am here, I suppose. To provide you with another view – and prevent rashness, if I can. And to remind you that time heals all wounds, no matter how much it hurts now. It will get better, I promise you that.”

Humming softly, he wiggled a little closer. This time, his pink tongue flicked out, wishing to soothe the sharp nip he’d applied to a soft ear only a few minutes before. Despite his callous words, it was clear that Rook was suffering as his father’s memory started to fade. The struggle would be the worst for him, youngest as he was, and he could imagine it was not hard to believe his family members truly did think lesser of him. It brought a weary expression to his face as he wiggled again, wishing to comfort the man with more than gentle touches and reassuring words.

“This is very hard, love. There is no way around it. I know it is very hard – I cannot imagine what it would be like for a family member to struggle to remember me. But I want you to imagine the situation if it were you, and Tomen was in your place. Would you wish for your son to disregard you altogether? Keep trying to remind Borden of things you’ve done together. Hold the good memories in your mind. The sting will fade with time, but his own life is limited. I advise you to make the best of what you have left, even if he is a bit difficult. You will be grateful for that, when the future comes – and I am certain that he is thankful for it, even if he doesn’t vocalize it that way. He loves you, Rook. He loves you so much. Do not doubt it, not for a second.”