Round Stone Crest All I can think about

@Gent

January 24th, Late Afternoon, Sunny, 15F/-9C

The black pelt stuck out like a sore thumb against the white expanse of snow that had become the surrounding territory of the pack he had always known as home. His body was sleek as he grew into his soon to be teenaged form. His legs were long and gangly with his paws seemingly too big as if he had been stretched and the rest of his body had not caught up. He walked with his head low, mossy green eyes focused on the ground in front of him rather than raised in the air as many princes' gazes might have been. Truthfully it had been a long time since he had felt even remotely since a prince of anything, let alone the Crest. He was an orphan, even worse he had been rejected and outcast and left behind by his own siblings and now he was the only Lagina on the small mountain.

Heading into the territory he passed the markers without ever looking up, his dark tail dragging behind him in the snow that had managed to fall through the dense evergreen trees. It had been a long time since Draven had felt at home in the territory that was his birthright, though he supposed nowhere would ever feel like home again. Still there were only two wolves who made him feel wanted, needed, important and one of them was gone.  Calanthe had once been his shadow, spending nearly every minute together since his mother's death and now she had also disappeared.

At first he had waited, never leaving the borders in case he missed her return and then he had spent each day walking a new spoke of a trail hoping to see trace of her. Still nothing. So now he was going something completely out of character, he was seeking out Gent. The man had tried but failed to save his mother, would he do the same again now?

"Speech."

sorry this post is a mess, trying to get a grip on gent's emotions again bc they're messy af

Everything was methodical, mechanical, empty. He had thought that Minka's death would the worst blow that they could receive, that they would stagger and fall to their haunches but then learn to stand again. That if they could make it through the loss of their founding matriarch, they could make it through anything. Instead, the children turned against him and the adults faded away one by one. The pack was splintering, failing, and his pride burned and ached from the continuous blows. It seemed as though winter would not stop until it had taken everything from him.

Within a matter of months, they had lost a total of eight among them. Eight souls who had placed their faith within him, trusting him to guide them, to unite them, to keep them safe. Time and again, he had failed them. Was he not as capable as he thought himself to be? Was it this land? Had he expected too much from those around him, allowed the wrong wolves into the pack? There were no answers, rather the silence became louder and louder with each heartbeat less amongst them.

It had started with Minka, and yet she had been the one for him to turn to for advice. @Raela was there, she had always been there, but in matters such as these, she was on the same level as him. Minka had been through all of this, had the experience to know what to do. Gent had thought he had helped save the pack by stepping up as leader, but now he was left to wonder if perhaps the success had been all Minka's after all.

As he breathed in the cold air, Draven's scent brought awareness to the boy's presence. Minka's remaining son. His remaining son, if he was feeling audacious enough to still claim such a thing. Often, he wasn't. To this day Gent was unable to understand the reason they had turned from him, from Marianna's unpredictable separation to Kino's sudden hate, to Draven turning not to the man who had raised him for comfort, but to a stranger amongst their ranks. It had exasperated, frustrated, angered him, and yet he had refused to give up. Instead, one by one, they had given up on him, isolating themselves further, choosing to truly be orphans. How could he say that they were still his children? No matter how much he wanted it to be, it was clear that despite all he had done, Tokino's blood within their veins damned him.

Yet Draven was the only one to have stayed behind, loyal to the pack regardless of his own inner turmoil. For as long as he stayed strong, Gent was a silent but ever present entity within his life. He no longer interjected himself into the boy's activities, trying to get a smile or a laugh. Truly, he didn't feel much like laughing or smiling himself these days. Yet he was there all the same, with a nod or a nudge, reminding him without words that if he ever needed him, Gent was right there beside him.

That was his intent now. To brush by and give a simple hello. He needn't ask what the boy was up to, or how he felt. It was the same for all of them. They were all searching, by now, for those who they had lost.

(This post was last modified: Feb 01, 2016, 11:53 PM by Gent.)

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

Playing this like this is the first time Draven and Gent have spoken about Calanthe leaving if that's okay

Gent came into his view and seemed content to just brush past him as he usually did, a shadow passing another shadow in the snow. Truthfully if not for his frame Draven could probably have passed for the leader's son. Both had dark pelts and standout eyes though the elder's were blue and the pup's green. The Lagina however was growing into a frame similar to his mother's though he would be taller than she, his muscles were lean and sleek ready for running long distances rather than bulky for fighting like many males. He could have been very handsome like a streamlined machine but he held himself lowly and his pain was written across his features like a whipped dog.

At first Draven allowed the leader to brush against him then keep walking, the pup's heart pounded in his ears as nervousness turned his stomach. He had never been one for confrontation, even less so once his siblings had turned on him so harshly after their mother's death.  His adrenaline screamed at him to keep walking and keep his mouth shut, but his heart demanded to know what happened to Calanthe and what the behemoth planned on doing about it.

His heart won out. Stopping in his tracks he turned slowly to watch the leader's form moving away from him through the snow. Opening his mouth at first nothing came out but a small croak. Closing his maw and swallowing hard he tried again, "Calanthe is missing." It was meant to be a question of sorts but instead it came out as a flat statement, his voice even despite the shakiness he felt inside.

There didn't seem to be anything different between this encounter and any other within recent memory, and if the man's mind wasn't already so thoroughly burdened, that simple fact would have bothered him. As it all was, the distance between himself and this figment of a son was on the back burner. So long as Draven was home and safe, the boy could be allowed his own inner turmoil. When Spring came, if he could ever recover any of the lost souls that haunted them all, he might be able to find the fight within him to try and rekindle the relationship they once had.

His shoulder pressed into Draven's, black dragging through black, and then they disconnected and he was on his way again. Yet before he could take more than a few paces, resigned completely to leaving the boy's company without a word, a surprise occurred. Draven's hollow voice swiftly halted Gent's retreat, and the man turned to face him as the tail of his statement dissipated in the air. For a moment, he could only stare; then a heavy sigh left him, and he retracted the distance he had placed between them one slow step at a time.

"Yes," he agreed in a voice that was uncharacteristically abated, "as are your sister and Danica.

There was Kova and Kino, as well; the eldest Lagina child had taken far too long to return. Branwen was already proving to be scarce, and Gent would never admit that he still hoped to catch sign of Lugh or Alphinaud's return. Worst of all was the one absence that could be explained, Cessair.

Too much.

"I'm trying, Draven."

Sorry this took so long! Also sorry he's exploding

It seemed like a year from the time the words left his mouth until @Gent turned around to answer him. His tongue felt dry like sandpaper and his heart pounded wildly as he tried desperately to swallow. It was something Draven had needed to say but now that he had he had no idea what to expect or even what he wanted to come of this. Swallowing hard again the green eyes stared unblinkingly at the other dark man's paws as they approached.

The words that reached him were enough for him to cast his gaze upwardly accusingly. How could Gent have let this happen? He had let his mother die and now half the pack was missing or dead. Draven held the alpha's gaze in an uncharacteristic staring contest of sorts as the silence stretched out between them. Usually he was the first to submit to everything, he was non-confrontational at best but this time his heart quivered with rage.

Perhaps it was all the emotions he had been holding in for months, or maybe it was his age and his hormones but this time her couldn't shove his feelings down as he usually did. Mossy eyes narrowed incredulously as once more his flat voice carried out just a single word, "Trying." A shudder ran down his spine as the word echoed around his head like an empty cave. Trying. Trying. Trying. Trying. Trying. This time when he spoke his voice wasn't flat but full of previously unspoken emotion, "Your trying isn't good enough or my mother wouldn't be dead, my siblings wouldn't be gone, the pack wouldn't be disappearing. You will never be good enough, nothing you do will ever be good enough!"  Once it was said Draven's stomach twisted with nausea but there was nothing he could do but stare at the "king". His sides heaved as he fought to catch his breath after everything he had said. What had he done?

(This post was last modified: Apr 08, 2016, 04:20 AM by Draven.)

lol that's okay, makes it interesting

There was that look. If he had the energy, Gent would have visibly bristled at such an offense. It was the same damn look that @Kova had given him that horrid night, full of childish blame and misdirected anger that cut just as deeply as though it were valid. Perhaps that was because of the possibility that it was. With no words to accompany the glare, however, Gent was left to exhale heavily and his own eyes wandered as his mind turned away from the unpleasantness before him to consider all that he still had to do. Mentally he ticked through the list, until at last Draven's voice rose up again, the sharpness of it snaring the alpha's attention once more.

There sights locked once more, Gent's ears pressed forward in time to receive a sudden rush of unexpected words. His gaze iced over with each syllable uttered, but there was no anger to it. A few lost souls again, there most likely would have been; he might have even lashed out. Now? He could only stand and stare, empty of any and all particularly strong emotions. Maybe it was the distance between them, maybe it was because he had lost the passion that a rageful reaction would have required. Most likely, it was because Draven's attack was nothing novel; the demons within him had been whispering the same accusations for a time now.

"It's a possibility," he conceded at last, leaving Draven to perhaps be the only soul he would ever admit such a thing to. His voice was monotone as he mused on, "I do have the recourse of giving up completely."

Clearly, Draven didn't understand. It didn't matter if it was all for naught. Never would Gent just lay down and die.

"I can't do that, though, Draven. You're welcome to your own choices, but I won't stop trying. Even if it doesn't make a difference."

(This post was last modified: Apr 08, 2016, 08:26 AM by Gent.)

wow I really did not expect this character development

Draven wasn't sure what he expected Gent to do as a reaction to his outburst but admitting he was right certainly wasn't one of them. For a moment the anger drained from his face as the green eyes widened to look upon the acceptance of the behemoth. It served to at least justify the boys feelings, if even the alpha himself thought it was his fault then he was right to place the blame on him after all. While it cleared the confusion and guilt that the Lagina child felt it effectively splintered the remaining relationship he and the man had. No longer would he blame himself for not saving his mother, no longer would he feel guilty for pushing the Lieris away, instead now he was validated. Everything had been Gent's fault after all.

If he had been younger he might have lashed out physically, as it was he had to restrain himself from showing his teeth towards the man. Maybe he would have if the memory of the physical punishment his brother had received didn't ring through his mind. Still his mother's blood ran strong in his veins and with it was the pride that she had taught him, pride he had shoved away and buried in self blame. No more. The black fur smoothed across his spine and he composed himself before he spoke.

The voice was no longer flat but courteous as one might with a formal but unpleasant encounter, "Perhaps you should be seeking help if you cannot handle the situation yourself." He was no longer afraid of what the man would say, in truth he hardly cared. He would stay for his mother's memory for as long as he could and when the time came he would reclaim the crest for the Lagina name as it should be.

Gent could not know that the moment he uttered those words, Draven's young mind would twist them so horribly and carry them so far from what had they had truly meant. If it were to be revealed to him, however, it would fail to surprise him; the boy's siblings before him had paved that road far too blatantly already. One more ungrateful whelp among the lot of them was the inevitability that he had tried and failed to convince himself would not happen, stretching his faith farther than it could sustain. The shifting of Draven's demeanor, the curtness to his tone; Gent had hardened his heart to it all already, and the last of his hope flicked out like a smother candle.

Disappoint shone clearly within his arctic gaze as Draven's belittling words reverberated through the air. So quick to judge, just like the age-mate brother he so feared and avoided, and oblivious to his own shortcomings. Who had raised them to be this? It certainly hadn't been neither himself nor Minka. @Raela, Calanthe, Cessair; none of the adults in their lives had modeled such behavior. Perhaps their mother's death truly was the only culprit, and yet as he recalled clawing through the frozen ground alone at six months old to bury his own father, the only parent he had known, he could not believe it to be true. Where he'd had no one to turn to, they had been surrounded by support and love, coddled even. Yet already they were more bitter than he had ever been.

When all was said and done, it was, like most things in life, a choice.

"Perhaps you would know for yourself how hard we're all working if you spent less time avoiding the pack to wallow," he answered, all traces of fatherliness now gone from his tone. If Draven wasn't going to listen, then Gent would not continue to stand for his patronizing. He had enough to worry about without getting walked over by children, and it was time Draven began to take responsibility, dead mother or not.

"You're the only wolf who is alone here, Draven; and only because you've chosen to be. Our arms have been open for a long time now waiting for you to come back to us."

(This post was last modified: Jun 18, 2016, 01:28 AM by Gent.)

Gent's disappointment was clearly seen written all over the dark face but it wasn't acknowledged. It brought Draven no pleasure to disappoint the man but it also did not pain him in a way that it might have had this been his mother. He was through trying to impress anyone but her, she may not be able to be here but he could certainly make her proud anyways. His green eyes hardened in a similar fashion has heard had when she spoke of traitors or loners unacceptable of joining when he spoke once more. "Is that what you call grieving Gent? Wallowing? Perhaps if you had ever loved her you would see why my siblings and I are not so eager to run into your outstretched arms. Everything you touches dies, first my mother and now this pack is well on its way." Suddenly the child was exhausted.

Everything he had been holding onto for so long had finally been aired and it left Draven drained. The hardness washed away and all that was left was a weariness that was well beyond his years. Shaking his head as the deep fog that had held him deep within its grasp curled about him once more he sighed, "I will try harder to find the others but I'm doing it for her and everything she wanted this to be, not for you." Maybe if Raela had come back she would have understood and have been able to diffuse the situation from where it had escalated into but she wasn't. Nobody ever came back.

Turning without another word Draven began his original tracks again and disappeared into the foliage, tail drooped and shoulders low with exhaustion. Was the Crest even his home anymore?

DRAVEN EXIT