Willow Ridge In the middle of messes miracles are made

For @Sven (and @Skoll if he gets back before they are done). Happy for Sven to wake up in the morning like O.o 'whaaa?' if its easier xD

don't need reason

Morganna Archer

don't need rhyme

August 16 - Evening

The Archer princess had decided to steer well clear of the small thicket on the edge of the Willows after her discussion with her brother. She had found Renier but the young Lyall was restless, whether it was on account of her injuries or otherwise she didn’t bother to ponder. He had spoken of seeking out his younger sibling (perhaps to clip him about the ear, perhaps not), and even spoke of travelling as far as a place he referred to as ‘the Reach’. While her paws itched to join him she simply couldn’t pull herself away while everything was still so precariously balanced here, so with little more than a few vague directions she had bid him farewell. They would find each other again certainly, as he did promise to return, and if he didn’t then she would go an find him. Until such a time, she would wait.

After sunset was usually her brothers time, but she fought to keep her eyes open just a little longer as she made her steady way to the border. She craved to see her nephew again, if only to take a peek at him sleeping close to his mothers side. But something was off in the air here, entirely out of place. Her brows drew down as she saw her brother leave the den. It was very unlike him to be so distracted as to not notice his own sister lurking nearby. She wasn’t nearly as crafty as he and her heart flew into her throat at the possibilities. Would she find some blood drenched monstrosity lurking in the thicket from which he had just emerged?

But no, all had been silent. His coat held no matted sheen and she couldn’t smell any blood… not that she would mourn the death of Piety, but Sven was in part her own blood and held a much higher regard in her peachy eyes.

Giving Skoll a good chance to get clear of the den she crept forward, her nose working overtime and registering the stale scent of Piety. Her mouth pulled down into a frown, she shouldn’t be surprised. She had neglected every other duty of a pack wolf, why shouldn’t she fail at this task too? “Of all the useless irresponsible layabouts he could have chosen…” she muttered under her breath, spying her sleeping nephew so vulnerable and alone. With no Renier to return to, and being old enough to not be missed in the communal den, she took a deep breath and moved forward to lay down next to the child. Her head rested heavily on her paws and her heart thundered in her chest. Her anger at the boys mother preventing her eyes from closing.

It was going to be a long night. When would she stop trying to clean up her brothers messes?

She grimaced as she realised she probably never would.

 

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(This post was last modified: Aug 17, 2015, 11:32 PM by Morganna.)

By now, it was more often than not that Sven slept peacefully through the night. A month having passed, a quarter of his life thus far, he had come to accept his situation. As much as one might have expected him to accept that Piety's disappearance had nothing to do with him, and as thoroughly as logic tried to pound into his head that she was most likely dead by now if she yet to return to him, being convinced that it all rested upon his shoulders was easiest for him. Not only did it give him hope of her returning safe and sound, but it put the control into his paws, giving him a way to bring her back himself.

Still, occasionally, nightmares would rock his sleep. When these occurred in his father's presence, he would stifle the tears that tried to swell within his eyes and pretend as though nothing was wrong. When alone, he would let his mind drift to those darker places, and vent his emotions.

Tonight, while his mind which had only just settled into sleep remained void of disturbances, he moved to cuddle into the warmth that suddenly surrounded him. Subconsciously, his mind recognized that the scent enveloping him was female, and for a moment he was able to dream and pretend as though it were his mother that protected him from the cold. A peaceful smile dreamily crept upon his muzzle as he nuzzled even closer to Morganna, forelimbs stretching out to wrap around one of her's.

Yet the illusion could not last. With his memory being so strongly prompted to think of Piety, his tranquil slumber soon fell victim to the fangs of a horrid nightmare as the known reality of his situation collided with what he'd hoped had returned to him. Suddenly, he became fitful, paws clinging even tighter to his aunt's forearm as his hind legs weakly kicked out at the dirt. In his head, something unseen but horrid all the same was chasing his saintly mother through a thorny thicket that tore at her once-pristine coat and scraped her skin. She was afraid for her life, and he felt that fear within his one chest, constricting his breathing. In his dream, he tried to scream, desperately wanting to tell the monster to leave her alone. In reality, a soft whine was all that could be managed.

don't need reason

Morganna Archer

don't need rhyme

She was a parcel of barely contained rage. She could hear her pulse in her ears as her jaws clenched and her teeth rubbed against each other, the grinding vibrating through her skull. As pale paws wrapped around dark limbs she flinched, turning her burning gaze on the child and wondering what would become of him. Surely he couldn’t stay out here on the edge of oblivion. Alone.

She slowed her breathing and relaxed her muscles, choosing instead to try and pick out the features of her brother that the pale child carried. His ghostly eyes, currently closed could not be surveyed for similarities in the flecks about the iris. When he slept, she could only see his mother.

What a shame.

When the child began to whimper she was filled with awkward panic. Her lip twisted into a pained expression as her ears folded flat against her skull. It was becoming bleedingly obvious that fortune had smiled upon them when nothing had come of her and Renier’s encounter. The girl didn’t seem to possess a maternal bone in her body.

She couldn’t pull away with his oversized paws wrapped around her leg and her brothers and sisters never made such a noise (if they did their mother dealt with it so easily). Awkwardly she bought her nose to rest on the child’s crown, an awkward “Shh, Shh, Shh…” breathed into the back of his head, although whether the sound was meant to calm him or her she couldn’t quite decide.

His parents would pay for this. She would make sure they both suffered for forcing her into this predicament.

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SVEN ARCHER

& the night is closing in

Through the darkness and snarls, the fear and the despair, something soft pressed against the back of his skull, a calming cool to chase away the fires that ravaged his bones. The whimpering diminished as Morgan's comforting efforts were more than enough for the small ghost, pulling him from his nightmares and back into the less bleak world he knew. Disappointment maintained its hold as his pale eyes opened and he realized it was not Piety who woke him from his horrors, yet he was appreciative all the same, pulling himself closer to her and nuzzling his face into the back of her shoulder. It may not be his mother, and he could not know why she had decided to come and be here with him, but his gratitude was overwhelming all the same, and the tears that had formed in his terrorized slumber burned as they threatened to fall.

"What if she's dead?" he whimpered, allowing his aunt to know his fears, from the concerning to the most grave. "What if she never makes it back? What if she doesn't want to come back?"

It had seemed so impossible that such horrible things could ever be true, but as each day passed he was forced to accept that one of these things must be reality.

Her attempts at soothing weren't enough to lull the child back to sleep, as he woke and pressed himself against her shoulder she had to remind herself to breathe. His questions were not unexpected, and she should have uttered soothing words in response, for surely all the child wanted to hear was that everything would be ok. What left her mouth instead was spoken without thought to how the young child might process it. "If she was dead we woulda found 'er by now. If she never makes it back yer still got yer father... An' me, an' yer nonna." Piety was of little consequence now the boy was eating solids. A larger part of her than she would care to admit in current company actually hoped she would never see the pale wolf again.

"An' if she doesn't want ter come back? Why would we care fer someone tha' doesn't care fer us?" her words were harsh and would probably upset the boy but she wasn't his mother. She would protect him as her own flesh and blood but she wouldn't hide the reality of life from him. "We don't need her @Sven." She was tired and this wasn't the time for talking. It was time for sleeping.

SVEN ARCHER

& the night is closing in

The first response issued from his beloved Aunt's maw was an odd kind of relief to the young boy, assurance that, given there was no body, his mother had to be alive somewhere. Yet as she continued to speak, it all spiraled downward from there, and he could only curl into himself miserably as she told him things he absolutely did not want to hear.

He had them still, yes, but he wanted them all and could not be happy with only partially getting his way, a very clearly-inherited trait from his father but also the simple basis that even if a child had other support, they should never be without their mother of all things. To have the third worry repeated upon her lips, he knew that it was impossible. Piety cared, she had always cared the most from what he could see and measure, and he refused to believe that she would choose to walk away from them for no good reason. She was still alive, still out there, still loving him.

We don't need her Sven.

Wrong. She was so wrong. Unable to take anymore, the boy's claws scrabbled against the ground as he shrunk backward, pulling away from his Aunt's warmth.

"I need her," he insisted, his voice thick with emotion as his pale eyes begged her to understand. Confusion and despair were rampant within him as he could not understand why no one felt the way he did about any of this, much less was willing to validate what was occurring inside of him.

"She's my mom."

She was too tired to contain the snort as he continued to insist that thing was his mother, but far from the sharp retort she initially wanted to throw at the child she held her tongue for long enough to give the impression her words might hold a bit of wisdom. "She gave birth to yer, doesn't make 'er a mother. Mother's don' leave their children, an' they don't hide them out in th' middle of nowhere like a dirty lil secret." Had her nephew been as far as the pack den? Had his precious mother possessed enough pride to bring him before the pack and say This is my son? At least his mother had had the standing, for his father to do so carried significant risks, but had she cared enough to include him?


No. She hadn't.

"'S time fer sleep." she muttered to the child, lowering her head to rest across her forepaws and feigning sleep by closing her eyes. "If yer too tired I can't show yer the Swift River. Even @Ravenna, Isolde and @Niles haven't been there yet." She wasn't even sure the boy would make it that far himself on such short legs but obviously, Morganna was not above bribery.

There are several fresh rabbit tracks in the mud. Hunt Opportunity

SVEN ARCHER

& the night is closing in

He watched her features so closely, determined that his words might mean something to her and that she would extend even a thin thread of understanding to him. She didn't. His eyes at last fell to the dark ground beneath his paws and the tears began to well within his eyes, no matter how much he hated himself for being weak enough to let them burn so. The words she spoke were like personal insults to the boy, and he curled into himself, paws raising to cover his thin ears in a worthless attempt at not hearing them.

Wrong, wrong, wrong. She had to be wrong. He would rather this pain of being alone in his feelings now than that which he would feel if he accepted that Piety's love had been empty and untrue.

A shuddering breath passed through him as his tired mind began to consider sleep again, despite the nightmares that awaited him. His paws slid down to the dirt again, and his breathing began to regulate. Vaguely, he heard Morganna's tempting proposition, the bait perfectly set. Relenting at last, he scooted himself back across the thin space that had been placed between them and against her side once more.

"Promise?" he murmured, casting one last ghostly gaze back up at her.

Clearly the flame @Skoll held for his departed... Well she wasn't a mate, she was barely a fling, still burned too brightly for either of them to see the truth of the situation regarding Piety's abandonment. Pursed lips silently held back any snappish sentiments she wished to hurl regarding the woman who had given birth to her nephew as she watched the pitiful way her curled in on himself and drew his paws down over his ears. 

Her fathers absence had had no such effect on her. Was that because her mother was upfront from the staff or because he left before they could bond at all? Did it only hurt so bad when mothers left?

When he finally inched back against her side she curled her body around his protectively, pressing her nose into the top of his head and with a small smile whispered "Promise. An I promise I'll be here fer ya ok? I won't leave you." 

After a few moments she began to hum a tune @Elettra had used to lull her children to sleep. She watched for his breathing to level out and deepen before properly closing her eyes for the night. Perhaps this would need to be a regular occurrence.