Lavender Ethos in 24 hours they'll be laying flowers on my life

Maksim's death. This was brought forward from Mimi's 'Character Will' that was put in place prior.. however, it is important to note that Mimi had let me know a couple of months ago it was her intention to kill Maksim.. she just never seemed to get to the post. <3

There was something very wrong.

She had awoken alone – something she had gotten used to now that the girls were older, and Maksim had been under Lachesis’ strict regime for getting better. She did not hold life in her this year, and so there had been no need to seek out the whelping den she and Maksim had for Lekalta and Inna. Instead, her lissome form had rested by the river, beneath the stars.

But when she awoke, the world was still dark. Clouds had gathered overhead, but the air was not yet damp with a spring shower. She could not place it – something was wrong.

Her throat was dry, but she did not stop to quench her thirst. Instead, in the silence of early morning, Kisla’s paws carried her past the borders of Hearthwood River, to Lavender Ethos, where her newborns that had suffered from their travels had been buried. The clearing was large – but she spotted him easily – so at peace beneath the dimly greying sky.

A gentle smile fell to her lips – it was such a rare sight to see him far from the enclosure Lachesis had him rest. “My love,” she murmured, her voice soft as she tiptoed toward him. The grass was soft beneath her paws, and the world remained silent, spare for the gentle song of a bird nearby.

He did not stir with her words – such a strange thing.

He did not stir, even when she stood over him now, a realization forming to her heart before her mind could truly grasp what had happened. Maksim Baranski no longer breathed – his chest did not rise and fall as she was so used to seeing – his green eyes did not open, and blink upward to her, a smile on his broad and handsome muzzle. He did not move to make room for her – to enfold her in to his embrace, as he had done countless times over the years they had spent together.

Maksim Baranski would never do any of these again.

The realization struck her with a weight that drew a shuddering gasp from her lips. The poised woman’s vision clouded for a moment, the silver of his fur becoming a blur as she all but collapsed at his side, her face burying in to the now cold neck of her dead mate.

The sobs that wracked her body now were mostly silent – guttural, and completely lost in the turmoil of losing the only man she had ever loved. Words he had spoken to her in the past echoed in her mind, as if a replay on one of the only times she had ever known pure freedom. “What I'm trying to say is that I want you here, by my side, through whatever seasons may come.”

Never before had the words he spoke brought heartache until now.

(This post was last modified: Oct 03, 2016, 11:42 AM by Kisla.)

sparking up my heart

this was very hard to write and i put it off until today for that reason :c </3

For awhile, it was difficult to tell if Maksim’s condition was stable or getting worse. Some days were better — the former king would leave his den to stretch his legs and enjoy the sun’s warm embrace — but the bad days outweighed the good. The healer felt stuck; it was Shade Slayer all over again, only this time it was stretched out… and there was hope. Hope that things would turn around; that the king would return to his former glory… but it never came. His temporary position was feeling more permanent as the days passed. It had always been temporary. Lachesis was not ‘leader material’ — he had always been the devoted follower, or second, ensuring that the leader’s voice was heard and enforced. It was not until Maksim’s health only declined, not increased, that XIX felt as though the position belonged to him.

As a healer, it was incredibly frustrating when things did not work out as planned. The trouble with the job of a healer was that the plants could only do so much. The condition of the patient was an important factor. Sometimes there was nothing the plants (or the healer) could do, which was most frustrating. Lachesis had always taken an interest in healing because he liked helping others. It did not require a lot of talking, or socializing, and studying the herbs he collected gave him something to do, as he liked being busy. Not being able to help another wolf, and feeling useless, destroyed the ghost. While he knew he was exceptional good at his chosen role, XIX knew that losses would occur — but he despised losing.

Lachesis, too, had woken from his slumber rather abruptly. There was something in the air, something different. At first his thoughts immediately went to Naia and their children, who threatened to burst out any day now. But from the scout’s steady breathing at the other end of the medical den, it had nothing to do with the tawny mother-to-be. A frown creased his lips as he silently exited the den, the cold air sending a shiver down his spine. No, something was not right. Following his gut, the slender male stalked through the dens, his forehead creased as his mouth grew dry.

It took him a few moments to realize that it was Kisla’s scent he had been following. Once the realization had settled in, he had stumbled upon her pale figure in the Ethos, her scent mingling with the green-eyed king’s. A glimmer of a smile had formed over his maw at the discovery of Maksim — it was good to see him out and about — and he realized that he had most likely stumbled upon a private moment between the two. With his cheeks flushing hot beneath his pale coat, the healer began to turn away until a sound caught his attention, causing his features to harden and his fur to stand on end. It was the sound of sobbing.

As he approached the pair, still feeling like an intruder, Lachesis realized what he had been fearing over the past few weeks had become a reality. The river king had finally fallen. Feeling like he had been kicked in the stomach, the healer could feel his own eyes fill with tears that threatened to fall. Another one of his few remaining friends in Relic Lore had left him, this time in the most permanent way. His throat was tight and he could not find any words that would comfort the heartbroken queen. There was nothing to say. Embracing the silence that engulfed them, the ghost settled down beside the tawny queen, pressing his forehead to her shoulder in a feeble attempt to comfort her.

“I think this is the place I would happily live the rest of my years out.” He recalled the words of his friend during one of their meetings before Mak’s health began to take a turn for the worst. They had finally found a place that truly belonged to them — he could recall how excited the green-eyed king had been. They had been through so much, the two of them, from the Rapids to Cut Rock to Hearthwood… everything had allen into place once they had settled down here. Now… now everything was falling apart once more. He had tried to hard to save the king, to bring him back to his former glory, but nothing had worked. There would be no more lighthearted banter between the two; no more advice to be given and received.

“Kingsfall …” Maksim had chuckled, clearly finding the name amusing. “My apologies, I didn’t … quite mean to get so morbid there.

(This post was last modified: May 11, 2016, 06:43 AM by Lachesis.)

stick with those who stick with you

It hung in the air that morning, weighing down on the young hunter's black shoulders as he trudged along the borders. There was no telling what it was, maybe just an approaching thunderstorm, but something was definitely off. Since Orren had returned to his home, he'd tried to slide back into his old routine, trailing the herds through and surrounding the territory, stalking the borders and filling up caches. But he found it harder than he had before, like the simple hunts no longer held his interest; There'd been many a time when his impatience had made him jump too early and miss the catch. It frustrated him, that what had previously been so easy now seemed to take extreme effort, he no longer woke up excited to go on the hunt, he felt lost. It was like part of him had been left behind, out in the world, when he returned to Hearthwood, and now he no longer felt as connected to his home as he used to. He tried though, continued to track down rabbits, scout out groups of deer and make sure there was enough food for the days when hunts went unsuccessful. Especially, he kept the cache closest to Lachesis' infirmary well stocked, so Naia would have enough to eat. Naia… That was another thing. The last thing the young Baranski had expected to return home to  was… Well that. He still wasn't sure what to feel about it, it shouldn't be any different than last year's babies, should it? Perhaps that was what had him feeling so strange this morning. In any case, the prince felt more than usually unable to concentrate on his task, and found himself simply trotting along the border aimlessly. He could probably have gone on like that for hours, thoughts running in circles, had he not been distracted by a familiar scent, crossing the borders in front of him. As he paused, glancing absently into the woods beyond, it occurred to the boy that he hadn't spoken at length with his mother since he came home. Perhaps now was the time. Following her trail to the clearing though, the lad noticed another fresh scent mixing with Kisla's, and he considered turning back. If she was with XIX, they were probably discussing business, and he didn't want to intrude. Before he could decide though, he came upon them, crouched silently in the center of the purple field. It took Orren quite a while to understand what he was looking at, at first he only saw the two of them, Lachesis leaned against his mother's shoulder, a weirdly intimate gesture that the boy didn't know what to think about. Then he heard it, so quiet that it had gone unnoticed so far, though now that it finally reached him, his mother's sobbing filled his ears. The yearling began moving instantly, his paws taking him to her while his brain was still trying to decipher the situation. "Ma'..?" He asked when he closed in, voice both concerned and confused. His movement though had taken him slightly around the pair, enough for him to finally see the body they were crouching over, eerily still among the flowers. Like the healer, Orren found himself speechless, staring wide eyed at his mother's face, buried in the grey fur of his father's dead body. Word count: 557 ”Speech" Thoughts

FurLined @DA

PLOT WITH ME!

She heard nothing for the moment – her sobs were registered as belonging to her as they drowned out the noise of the delicate birds in the land, or the gentle breeze of nature. Somewhere, in the swiftness of her mind, the she-wolf recognized that Lachesis was now with her – the fortitude he offered her graced with the pressure of his forehead against her shoulder. It only stirred to shake her further, her sobs becoming more heart wrenching as she buried her face still within the cold fur of her dead mate’s neck. She could not believe he was gone.

He could not be gone.

Only then did Orren’s voice drift to her, as if the nightmare continued to unravel. Blinking, she would glance up to her son, watching as realization dawned upon him. “Orren,” she finally managed, quaking still before she tipped her muzzle up to brush against the downy fur of Lachesis ivory pelt. She tried to still herself – to steel her nerves, and yet her eyes would betray her to steal upon Maksim’s form once more, and she found she was at a loss for words.

Maksim Baranski was dead, and there was nothing anyone could do for them now.

sparking up my heart

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

There was nothing he could do, nothing he could say. How was he supposed to comfort the grieving widow when he was just as big of a mess as she was. It wasn’t fair… Maksim still had years left: years of reigning and bringing more little Baranski’s to Hearthwood. He was doing better, why hadn’t Lachesis seen the signs? Could he have done something to prevent the death of his friend? Guilt consumed him, relentless and ravenous, as it devoured the previous feelings of sorrow. He worried that Kisla would blame him for the death of her mate. He blamed himself, why wouldn’t she?

The ghost smelt the third Baranski before he made a sound, and if his heart could have broken a second time (or perhaps a third or fourth time, it was falling apart so quickly he couldn’t keep up) it would have. As much as he wanted to scamper away and allow Kisla to grieve with her son, he couldn’t. He did not want to leave his friend — not yet. Orren. The green-eyed queen’s voice finally broke the stillness that had settled over them. Lachesis pulled away from the sparrow’s soft fur, his chartreuse gaze fixating on the younger Baranski before he turned his attention back to Maksim’s limp form. He was still hoping that this was all just some terrible dream and he would wake up soon. It had to be a dream.  Maksim couldn’t be gone. Not yet… His limps quivered as he pressed his nose to Kisla’s cheek once more, to steady himself or her, he was not sure.

His lips remained pressed in a thin, tight line as his pale gaze fell to Orren once more. Words failed him, just as they had with Kisla. He could think of nothing to offer as comfort because there was nothing. 

stick with those who stick with you

His world was shattered, body standing frozen to the spot as he watched the scene before him, refusing to accept what he was seeing. Because it couldn't be real, the one thing that had always been a constant in his life had been his parents, always pushing on, keeping the pack running no matter its disarray. Therefore his father could not be lying here, dead, because he could not fathom a world without Maksim in it. It was his mother's voice that finally broke through the wall the boy had erected around himself, to shield him from the truth. The very sorrow of her voice causing cracks to spread throughout it, throughout him. In the simple tone of his name, she had confirmed the unthinkable. His head shook faintly, a last attempt at denial, but there was no escape from the pain he saw in her eyes, reflecting back in his deep oranges. Maksim was dead, his father was gone. "How..?" He squeaked, voice as hoarse as Kisla's, even if the tears had yet to reach his eyes. He followed her movements to look at the healer, waiting for him to speak, as if he could somehow give an explanation that would justify things. There was no blame in his question, only desperation, a longing for something that could sooth the hurt in his chest, even though he knew such words didn't exist. Really he wanted to ask why, but he was old enough to realize the absurdity of that question; There is no WHY… It just happened, eventually it happened to everyone. But that didn't lessen the pain. On stiff legs, the young man moved towards the huddled figures, desperate to take away that deep hurt he saw on their faces, as well as felt in himself. He came to a halt at their side, sitting down heavily, and for a moment his gaze rested on the lifeless grey form. It seemed alien somehow, like it was no longer the wolf he had known and loved; He's really gone..! Then he turned back to Kisla and XIX, bowing down to join in their embrace. "Mom…" He whispered, throat tightening as he finally felt the tears pool behind his closed eyelids. And he pressed against her like he had as a young pup, trying to sooth her as much as himself, but with little success. Word count: 395 ”Speech" Thoughts

FurLined @DA

PLOT WITH ME!

Tagging @Karina @Inna to assume she told them behind the scenes and let them come and say goodbye to their father.. then the pack would bury him.

She sought the strength of both Lachesis and Orren – both wept with her, crumpled upon the body of their mate.. their father.. and their best friend. The loss was too great for words, and so she remained silent, unable to answer Orren’s question of how – it was only her eyes that would trace over her boy, knowing he would come to understand that nature was a terrific beast, and Maksim’s injuries had simply been too much for him and his age. Her nose pressed to both cheeks of her companions, a feeling of numbness washing over her as she felt the need to strategize now. The need to busy herself and not dwell upon the fact she had lost her soul mate.

“I want to bury him. To protect him.” She paused then, trying to clear the tremor in her voice before she steeled herself once more. “I will not have the vultures feasting upon the King of the River.” She would need to tell Lekalta and @Inna -- @Karina. All conversations she dreaded, but they would need to hear it as quickly as possible. Once they looked upon their father’s body for closure, she would have him buried in a peaceful resting place – the pack could then mourn him together.

sparking up my heart

Her father was gone! Not just n some hunting trip or to visit another pack but gone and not coming back, this was too much for Inna to handle. When her mother had told her what had happened tears had immediately streamed down her face and they hadn’t stopped. She knew that she could never understand the pain that her mother felt at the loss and she could barely understand the feelings that she was feeling just then. What she did know was that she wanted her father, she wanted him to be able to see the wolf that she knew she could become. And she felt guilty because she hadn’t been there for him like she should have been the last few months of his life. Standing there in the Ethos watching the scene of her mother , Orren , and Lachesis mourning her father’s death all that she could think was that she didn’t understand. He was supposed to have been getting better all of this time and now he wouldn’t be able to be with his family any more. How could this have happened? Her father the strong leader of their pack, the one who had made the hard decisions and did what he thought to best for the pack. For a long time Inna just stood there watching until she couldn’t stand there any longer and moved to where her father’s body lay. She didn’t immediately go to her mother and Orren but instead to where her father’s head lay so peaceful and pressed her forehead against his for a long moment as she said goodbye to him the best way she knew how. When she finally did step away she went to her mother and Orren’s side to seek comfort from them and offer whatever comfort she could to them.

(This post was last modified: Sep 01, 2016, 02:31 AM by Inna.)

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Shattered, it was all shattered. Her welcome return, her happy reunion with her family... all her promises that she would be a better daughter, a better pack wolf. All of the bliss and hope to which Karina had been clinging was nothing more than a desperate delusion; a flimsy, fragile dream that would have been easily cracked by the tiniest digression from the charming fantasy Karina had constructed.

 Her father’s death was hardly a tiny digression. 
 
As she received the news from her mother, time ceased to exist and the world spun nauseatingly, rocking the girl off of her paws. She could feel the delicate panes that constructed her reality splintering uncontrollably, shattering against the hard, unrelenting truth that her mother had imparted. Could Kisla hear it too? It was so loud.. the pounding, the screaming..
 
Where was she? Trees flew by her in a blur as she ran, unable to control her direction or even feel her paws against the earth. She teetered this way and that as the ground plunged up and down like the ocean in a storm. The moment she reached the Ethos, the chaos silenced, and time froze. She could see and hear no one but her father—the lifeless pile of fur that he used to be—and her quivering legs would allow her to approach no further than the edge of the clearing.

Her mother wanted her to pay respects, but she couldn’t, she just couldn’t.  Trees were flying by again. The redwoods that made up her home screamed at her as she ran, and her heart stomped a furious cadence that threatened to swallow her whole.  She knew where she was going this time—to the dark, to the silence. 

Choking sobs emerged wildly from her throat as she plunged down into her den, claws scraping against the loamy dirt as she scrambled to worm herself down into the silence of the cool, firm ground. She would dig and dig and never stop, not until the screaming ceased, the earth stood still, and the darkness inked out the images imprinted in her mind.