Ghastly Woods we will fall from last to none

Open to all! Sven is looking for his mother Piety in this thread. Please, do not share information about her with him, as his discovery of her is already planned out.
Dated 10/5 - Occasional cloud cover, dusk.
Sub-territory discovery! Dastard's Rapids occur within the northern thick of Ghastly Woods. The mountain-fed river which winds its way along the top border of the fog-ridden forest typically remains calm throughout the thawed months of the year, but nearer to the base of the mountains, this changes. A river bed upheaved both by exposed, jagged rock bed and a swift drop in elevation forms a dangerous nest of rapids within the water. It is most tumultuous during the spring thaw, when the river runs deepest due to the melting snow and ice, and least threatening during the late summer when the water level falls under pressure from the heat.

SVEN ARCHER

& the night is closing in

Not yet satisfied that the north's possibilities had been deplenished, the boy had repeated his course with all the more fire within his gut. River after river he had crossed, passing the peculiar rocky throne from the day before within short time, and traveling hours farther. As the wisps of fog began to snake around his legs, defended from the burning sun by the choking canopy of yet a new species of trees above, Sven felt to his very bone that this repetition, this further exploration, had been the correct choice. The landscape around him was something straight out of a horror story told to him by his mother or @Hecate, and it was all too painfully easy to imagine the multitude of ways in which harm could have befallen Piety within these Ghastly Woods.

Why didn't you turn back? his mind begged to know as he pushed on, forever his mother's fearless son. He cared not for any personal danger he may be in within the murky depths of this forest, would face them all at once if it would bring his beloved mother back to him. His pale eyes were restless within his scale, scanning the entirety of his surroundings over and over again in search of any sign, whether it be of Piety or a naredo weller who may know of what came of her.

Despite the oppressive gloom, the eerie sounds and mischievous fog, the boy unknowingly approached the end of the woods without a single incident. Certainly, there was more to the forest than what he saw, his mind determined, and so it ignored the thinning of the trees, the subtle increasing of light, the slow retreat of the mist over the ground. When the violent rush of yet another river reached his ears, he was drawn to the more violent sounding end of moving water body. He could not know from sound alone that it was rapids which lay ahead of him, the boy yet to have experienced such a formation before in his life. Yet as he approached, and his eyes lay upon the roiling, stone-ridden water, he knew exactly how utterly dangerous they were.

This did nothing to keep him away. Over and over his silver eyes searched the white froth and the sharp edges of the deadly rocks, witnessing all the different ways in which the natural occurrence could break an adult wolf's body and steal the life from it. It was impossible to tell upon the shore if the white was truly foam (an inexplicable thing to the boy's unworldly mind) or Piety's captured remains, and the child was unable to handle not knowing.

"Mother... ?" he whispered weakly, fear beginning to grip his body as his eyes and mind worked together to play wicked tricks upon him. His pale paws entered the water, the current strong even at the shallow shore. The many jutting slabs of rock made some semblance of a bridge, and Sven knew that the only way to truly know that this was not Piety's grave would be to cross. Pulling himself up upon the nearest, he began to travel deeper into the rapids.

It was difficult for him to focus on his footing, when he was so frantically searching to discern the smallest scraps of Piety's fur from the tumultuous, tornadoing water around him, and as he neared the center, a single mistake was made. In all of a single breath the boy's paw slipped, and with his balance suddenly stolen from him, his other three legs crumpled easily before the current's force. He had time only to gasp before he was plunged beneath the water's boiling surface, consuming him completely.

Ice stole over his skin, or so it felt as his coat was immediately permeated and he seemed soaked to his very bones. All sense of direction was stolen from him, pale eyes pinched tightly closed against the stinging water. His shoulder collided with something hard and abrasive, and then the same with his left flank. Dull pain consumed his flesh, and he wanted to cry out, but gritted his teeth against the water that pushed so vehemently inward on him. It wanted to flood his lungs, wanted to steal his life, and as the searing of his oxygen-starved chest built, Sven was overcome with the dread that it would win.

(This post was last modified: Oct 22, 2015, 11:47 PM by Sven.)

I'M SHITTY AT WRITING ACTION POSTS IM SORREH

M FOR MATURE THEME

hecate liar


a little of vision of the start and the end, but all the choirs in my head sang no
Hecate had been in this neck of the woods searching for @Adele, the skirting of the Ridge seemed to be a place for a guardian. Her nose picked up faded smells for the past mile, the woods recuperating from the paws that had tread here. It almost suggested she was being crazy when a fresh track crossed her radar. A brow raised on her forehead while the woman nudged around the little prints. That fuckin' boy. Hecate grimaced, setting off at a lope. He needed to quit the antics, this was becoming dangerous; of course she sympathized, but he needed to consult his father. Her paws thundered across the earth as she (tried) to find him.

About ten minutes went by, the clock growing with her fear. "Sven?" She began to call, voice shrill with concern. The white noise of water smashing against water muted the sounds of the forest. There he was, prancing so lightly on the surfacing rocks. It felt like a blow to the lower gut, a muted taste of bile settling in her throat. "SVEN!" She yelled, bounding forwards- hoping he might just hear her. "SVEN GODDAMNIT!" She could barely even hear her voice, it was raspy and worn. Her face was scrunched and set in panic when she watched him plunge. Her body veered to drive down river, leaping into the water nervously. She could touch the bottom, its stones causing loose traction. She felt around franticly for a body, mouth plunging several times before closing on a soft squishy boy. With great effort, she dragged him to the surface, the water suctioning on his mass. She had to reposition her grip from his shoulders to his scruff, clamoring over the rough waves and current. High pitched grunts pushed from her nose, her paw meeting a sharp rock beneath the surface. She needed to find a outreach, a mound, a large rock an- ah. A branch hung over the edge of the river, its body connected to a larger trunk. Hold on.. Hecate beckoned him, nearing the branch by a few meters. Paws clawed at the the wooden branch, gaining a slow hook with her limbs. She pulled herself and the boy up the wood, coming ever closer to the shore. She could have fought the river with just herself being the subject, but having someone else was like a bag of sand tied to her neck. She collided with mud and stones, using her back legs to push up the shore. The water was only up to her hocks now, releasing Sven for a quick moment to try and nudge him up the incline out. The young boy was far too weak, his little body wavering in a current 1/3 the intensity. She sort of picked him up, carried him a few steps and put him down again. This went on for a while, not having the strength to take on his full weight. When they had reached dry land, she collapsed with a groan.

It took a few moments for her to catch her breath, the freezing temperatures starting to set into her fur. "What... the... FUCK D'YA THINK YER DOING OUT HERE ALONE?" She questioned, scolding him firmly. "Y'WOULD 'AVE BEEN KILLED..." She gasped with a shallow intake. He was out of his mind this one, the similarities shocking. "Just like yer damn father, stubborn as an arse." She breathed with a short laugh, lifting her head to see if he had any severe wounds. Her eyes caught on a small pool of blood, following its trail back to her right paw. Hecate scrunched her face, staring back at a fatigued child."Wha' hurts, y'musta gotten pretty fucked up back there." She wasn't holding back. If he was mature enough to go out on his own than he could here as much filth as he wanted.

(This post was last modified: Oct 23, 2015, 01:03 AM by Hecate.)

the armed queen

SVEN ARCHER

& the night is closing in

His body began to numb, the fear began to ebb, and rather than struggle, his muscles slackened as they discontinued their resistance. The darkness was no longer just around him, but inside him as well, and the more that seeped in, the less he cared. Even the fire within his chest was being smothered, and it felt as though he might nod off to sleep. Yet before he could truly give up, he felt pressure upon the still-loose skin of his nape. Then he was moving against the current. Then he was escaping it. The moment air broke around his dial he was gasping hungrily for it, sucking as much into his lungs as they would hold. Through the cold and the adrenaline, he could not feel the pain that had been and continued to be inflicted upon him as his body, much too large to be carried by the teeth of another without affliction, was dragged upon the rough gravel. It didn't matter, regardless. While his world was still spinning and he could still feel phantasmal rapids pushing down upon his skin, he could at least register that he was alive.

When at last his savior released him for the final time, the boy rolled onto his stomach, clawed toes digging into the soil as racking coughs over his body in spasms. He spat up several bouts of water, the force of it searing his throat. Immediately his fur began to dry, and as his body slowly regained its temperature, he began to feel the ache of his muscles and the bruising that would envelop him for the next few days. Yet as his mind cleared enough to grasp more than his continued existence, it once more could only consider Piety. If that had been her... she would have been swept down river. He might never be able to find her body.

It wasn't until Hecate raised her volume to shrill levels that Sven was snapped into the now that existed outside of himself. Reactively his ears snapped down against his skull to protect themselves from the harsh sonority of her voice, pale eyes pinched shut and snout wrinkled in distaste. Then she mentioned his father. The boy peered over his shoulder at her, silently correcting her. His father was not stubborn. @Skoll was determined, he was exact, he was confident; he was a paragon of what was right in Sven's young eyes.

"Nothin' hurts," he quietly insisted, forcing his rigid muscles to work so that he may stand. His eyes found the ground, disappointment strongly displayed upon his face. Not only had his explorations proved fruitless, but he had almost gotten himself killed in the process. Stupid.

M FOR MATURE THEME

hecate liar


a little of vision of the start and the end, but all the choirs in my head sang no

The pads on her paw were too frozen to really offer any pain, the blood oozing from the chunk of skin missing. "Fuck me.." She breathed, fighting tears back. Hecate's eyes were forced to refocus at the sound the disappointed and raspy voice. She was registering notes of failed accomplishment, he must have been looking for his mum. He was angry about what she had said about Skoll, another similarity between the two. A deep line creased in between her brows, quickly dissolving in admiration. She struggled to pull herself up, red staining her pristine white fur. "Tha' was incredibly brave of yer, I never seen someone yer age fight a current like tha' before." She smiled through teeth clenched in the pain growing from her leg, a tone of earnest interest piecing together.

She stayed silent for a few minutes, letting the boy have a minute to rest and regenerate. He must be hurting, the kid almost drowned and he expected her to believe he wasn't scratched up? She born at night, but not last night. "Sven, I'm goin' t'check y'over. I know yer lying through yer teeth and I don't blame ya, but y'might need medical attention when w'get back." She said calmly, not allowing him to argue she was already dragging herself to him.

(This post was last modified: Oct 25, 2015, 05:37 AM by Hecate.)

the armed queen

SVEN ARCHER

& the night is closing in

He had expected the insistence, but that was to come later, after something that rather than was anticipated, caught him off guard. He did not foresee the compliment oozing out of her jaws, and it did not even occur to the child to be pessimistic about her earnesty. Again just like his father, the praise did wonders in smoothing over any abrasion that had occurred just moments before, and he peered over at her once more, though more tentatively so than before as he now lacked the righteous glower. Nothing further came from her at that point, and he didn't much want to pollute the air with unnecessary words either, and so the silence persisted.

The boy began licking his paws and forelimbs, assisting the drying process by clearing away the excess water. The aching of his flesh persisted but he continued to ignore it, heedless of the subtle urgency such pain attempted to relay to his brain. He knew better than his instincts that all would heal, that such bruising was only temporary, and despite his young age he was strong enough to bare through such discomfort for the sake of being brave, as @Hecate had called him. He could only imagine that Skoll would have handled this much the same, though he suspected his father would not have ever fallen in the first place...

She spoke again, at last giving up the words he had initially expected to hear from her. A frown cut across his muzzle deeply, and as she approached him he curled into himself defensively, slicked tail poised between his body and the woman who had, despite having just saved his life, yet to have earned such a privilege. The boy's affections were not so easy to snake into as were his father's (a fact that, in all actuality, would enrage the youth if he were to know of his father's infidelity to Piety regardless of his mother's abandonment of them both). Thankfully, she was slow in her advance, giving the monthling time to notice the crimson seeping into her fur at the base of her paw...

"I'm not lying," he insisted with a subtle baring of his teeth, warning her not to come closer as the heat of anger began to tinge his words. "If I need anything from the pack, we'll deal with it at the pack," he continued, clarifying that Hecate's own words had made it clear that she could do nothing to help him presently. So what was the use? Her proximity began to unnerve him, and he found his ire growing tremulous at the threat of closeness with this woman, this woman who looked so much like his mother...

"Please," he began again, the irritation suddenly gone from his voice as he nearly begged her, "just don't touch me."

Little Irish lass frightening Sven, no biggy XD

M FOR MATURE THEME

hecate liar


a little of vision of the start and the end, but all the choirs in my head sang no

Hecate let him finish his little rant, ending with a prick. Hecate backed off, taking easy steps backwards. She hadn't thought of the pain he must be going through, she looked similar. Her brows furrowed painfully, over looking him with brutal honesty. She cleared her throat, looking away from the clump of fur. "I-uh. Yeah, ya made a good point." She coughed again and took a seat. It was oddly awakening to see Sven react this way, strangely reflective of her own past. She wouldn't see her father for weeks at a time, always longing the comfort of a paternal figure. Although, if this were her? She wouldn't be this nice about it. She was grateful that he didn't try a bite. Hecate stared back, giving the youngster a confirming nod.

"I assume yer good t'travel?" She said, trying the stand without putting weight on her gushing paw. All was doing well until she lost balance. The open wound slightly tapped the ground, a loud stream of Gaelic swears fled from her mouth. "Shit, I din' mean tha." She weakly apologized, groaning in pain. The blood has found it's way to the river, clouds of dark crimson red drifting away in the water.

the armed queen

SVEN ARCHER

& the night is closing in

She obeyed his pleas, and his relief was palpable. In fact, it seemed he had turned things around on her, making the woman feel equally uncomfortable as he had. Sven felt neither guilt nor satisfaction over this, merely tired and wanting to go home, making him glad when she moved the conversation toward that focus, agreeing with him. He brought himself up to his full height again, gaze turning to face the way back home as he nodded, prepared fully for the trek. His muscles ached, the pain circling around cynosures of focus, but he could ignore it well enough to continue on as though he wasn't feeling a thing. A paw lifted, ready to take that first step, when a sudden burst of expletives assaulted his ears.

They swept back against his skull, not from the subject matter but the sheer volume of it, and as they flinched away his visage turned to face the woman. The blood had traveled further up her paw and into the fur of her leg, aided by the water still clinging to her body. At last, a tinge of guilt did begin to seep into his chest. Hecate had saved his life, and all he could bring himself to do was be cold. Not because she deserved, but because he was only thinking of himself.

Without further thought, Sven moved. He placed himself at her side, on which was her injured paw, and offered his shoulder to lean upon. Not a word was said, for the physical offer alone should be enough in the boy's mind.

Looks a little like this, I hope I'm making sense XD

M FOR MATURE THEME

hecate liar


a little of vision of the start and the end, but all the choirs in my head sang no

She had frightened him with volume, tiny ears folded against his skull. She clacked her teeth together twice, overlooking the situation. She was so busy calculating the clearest way out, she didn't notice the little lump of fur collecting at her side. No exchange of words was needed just yet, only a firm nod. She turned back to the steep incline in which she needed to crawl up. There seemed to be a few carved holes in the stacked soil, taking a few measly steps forward. She inspected the closest step with a raised paw, a few steady prods proving its stability. "This way..." She said to the body below her, not looking down. She expected him to move away; not taking the time to mind his presence just yet. She coiled her uninjured back leg, taking a flimsy leap forward. Her front legs dug into the soil, gripping tightly with the grassy plateau. Hecate pushed herself up with her unharmed leg, making sure the open wound was keeping clean.

Once she found herself over the barricade of mud and rocks, she turned to the young man below her. Now she was covered in her own blood and dirt, an agitated curl scarring her lips. Hecate hated being dirty, it was disgusting and below her. She was sure to take a nice bath when she reached the Ridge. "Ya got this, show me yer a-game." She smiled with a sort wag of her tail.

the armed queen

A young deer has been separated from the rest of its herd. Hunt Opportunity

Feel free to fade <3

SVEN ARCHER

& the night is closing in

She led the way, up out of the ditch-like bank that lined the shores of the lethal rapids, and he remained at her side as she tested the sureness of what footing would be used to scale the muddied soil. It wasn't until she ascended that he stayed behind, there to catch her should she fall. Once it was clear that she had made the climb and was safely atop the embankment, turning to him with encouraging words, he finally felt comfortable in make it up himself.

In a single, sure bound he ignored the dull ache of his thrashed muscles and joined her back upon solid, sodded ground. Only a nod was given to her, final assurance that he was completely fine and able to make the journey back home. The entire way he would stay at her injured side, guaranteed to be her support when needed and take the pace her wound dictated. Only silence would emanate from the boy, the entire ordeal leaving him unwilling to speak. He did not desire even the comfort of his father or aunt. Vaguely, he wished Piety to be there, but most of all, he simply wanted to curl up and sleep the shame of his failure away.