Red Fern Forest won't cry for a king

for Pumpkin Eyes/@Hawthorne. Light Snow.

A deep frown cut into his maw as he passed by the familiar trees, his shoulders drooping as he dragged his feet. Reyes’ departure had caused ripples within the Shallows. Askan was more irritable than ever. Sachiel kept himself busy and out of sight, making sure he was tending to his duties without having to actually speak to anyone. Some days he forgot he had packmates. Some days he did not care for pack life. But he cared for Askan. This was his home—leaving was not an option. Not when his grumpy father needed him. They had lost not one but two members of their dysfunctional, grumpy, edgy family—Sachiel had no intentions of being the third Selwyn to abandon ship.

His tawny brows pinched together as snow cascaded around him. It was his second winter and he was still not fond of the white stuff. It made everything dull and boring; void of the colours he craved. But, even before winter fell onto the lands of Lore, the colours had evaded him. They were no longer as bright and extravagant as they once were.

Most of his time was spent in the forest surrounding the Edge—some nights he even slept outside the borders. Sachiel knew every nook and cranny as he seldom drifted further than the red ferns. It had been months since he had last seen the Glen and he had no intentions of returning any time soon. It wasn’t the same without his greyscale friend. But, then again, nothing was the same. Her departure had caused his world to turn to grey.

She had not escaped the clutches of the red forest just yet. Perhaps she had overestimated her memory, got turned around one too many times in all the ivory dusted crimson. Or maybe she was merely not as quick-footed as she used to be. Had the Plateau slowed her down? Made a sluggish creature of her? She found it hard to imagine such a thing but maybe it was true.

Then she smelled something all too familiar to be this south. Her features crinkled with confusion and worry. Pawprints in the light snow were a sign that maybe she wasn't off her rocker so soon. Which was a relief all on its own. Maybe she would be lucky and wouldn't turn out like her mother still.

Her pace quickened as she took off down their trail. A ruffling of fur down her spine had seemed to spike up with the adrenaline-inducing excitement that coursed through her being. The figure looked familiar enough when she spotted it but she had no plan to bombard him like she used to. No tackling. Yet. She didn't want to kill him with fright or possibly receive a strike from his teeth.

Plant Boy? She called out, a mischevious grin replacing any former features of worry she had.

Despite the passing days and the changing weather everything remained the same. The tawny boy was stuck in the same routine. Hunting. Patrolling. Avoiding his packmates. Avoiding strangers. Repeat. It was mundane and he was growing tired of it, but he could not leave. Would not leave. He never had much of a family, as he was the result of two young wolves getting together without sorting out how they actually felt about each other. His mother had been mostly absent while his father did not really know how to parent. Their lacklustre parenting skills had prompted the boy to convince a stranger to take him home: i.e. as far away from Quaking Vale as possible. Sachiel knew that the Vale wasn’t where he was supposed to be; he would never be able to flourish among all the obnoxious orange leaves.

But the Shallows... that was where he was supposed to be.

It was his home.

Even if it did not always feel that way.

The snow crunched beneath his oversized paws as he pushed through the snow-dusted ferns, his ears swept back against his crown as his gaze remained low. The sound of movement in the distance caused a single ear to twitch but he did not divert from his path. He was not interested in being social. His pace quickened instead, his tail flicking idly behind him as the sound drew nearer. If he ignored them maybe, maybe they would get the hint. Maybe, maybe they would leave him alone.

One could only hope.

Plant Boy?

His steps faltered, resulting in the agouti nearly face planting into the snow. It had been a long time since he had heard that name. Hell, he’d even forgotten about it. A soft frown creased his handsome features as he turned toward the voice, his mismatched gaze narrowed as they fell upon the first pop of colour he had noticed in weeks. It was the first time he had been able to meet her (obnoxiously orange) gaze without pulling away.

Who’s askin’?

(This post was last modified: Jan 15, 2019, 03:17 AM by Sachiel.)

ridge is a mature character

aka he curses a lot due to his frustation with his memory loss

x

ridge associates colours with moods/feelings & uses them to describe others

She wasn't given the response she might had been thinking she would receive. There was no sudden high rush of energy, she wasn't even bombarded by any sort of physical contact. There was something nice though about the way he met her gaze. It was something she could not recall ever happening before. This was him, right? That lanky frame and those mismatched eyes would have looked unfamiliar anywhere else surely.

There didn't seem to be warmth though. She still felt as cold as the snow beneath her paws.

Would her return be one misstep after the other?

Depends on who ya ask. Kid, shithead...Pumpkin Eyes. She had never bothered learning what pumpkins were (or if she had, she couldn't recall) but the word rolled off her tongue with familiar ease. Her features had fallen into something more neutral. If he didn't remember her or simply wanted her gone, she'd comply without much of a fuss. She was already learning that perhaps everything was not the same as she had left it.

Maybe that applied to her Plant Boy too.

A young fawn has gotten separated from its herd. Hunt Opportunity, +8 Health

Of course he knew who she was. He could not forget her even if he tried… and boy, did he ever try. Everything reminded him of her and it was too painful to let her consume his thoughts all the time. She had left because she needed too—there was nothing he could have done. Even though he wished he could have helped her and erased whatever pain had nestled deep inside her. But she needed to leave—Sachiel understood that. Some days he wished he had followed her, but he knew that would not have done her any good. He would not have been a good friend if he had trailed behind her like a lost puppy.

Depends on who ya ask. He snorted at the comment, a single brow raised as his chin tilted to the side. Kid, shithead… Pumpkin Eyes. Ah, yes—Pumpkin Eyes.

His Pumpkin Eyes.

Sachiel desperately wanted to eliminate the distance between them. To tackle her to the ground, shove his wet nose into her neck fur and breathe in her familiar scent. But he remained disinterested, his brows still pinched tight together. The frown remained on his pale features. She had returned—but for how long? Was this a permanent stay or was she merely passing through? She smelt different… unHawthorne-y. Was this still the same girl that had helped him chase coyotes away from the Shallows? Don’t know her, he hummed with a flick of his tail: Although shithead seems accurate.

ridge is a mature character

aka he curses a lot due to his frustation with his memory loss

x

ridge associates colours with moods/feelings & uses them to describe others

Her own brows furrowed a bit at his first response. Unsavory words lingered on the tip of her tongue ready to strike. She had thought that she would leave him be without a hassle but hell if she was doing that now. Her lips parted ready to deliver a piece of her mind but the thought was erased at his next words. Pretty big shithead. Sure know that though so...no need to rub it in or anything. She hated herself for ever leaving in the first place and maybe he did too. Sure time away had fixed some things but she had learned that it hadn't been the right way of doing things. Perhaps she should have stayed, done a few things differently, get some help from her Plant Boy. Who knew, maybe there were plants that could have helped her.

If only she hadn't been so stubborn in her bitterness when it had struck her.

She broke down though, head lowering some as she dared to creep closer. If he would still hold her gaze, she would hold his. Maybe you don't know Pumpkin Eyes but...I know Plant Boy when I see him. Her voice barely reached above a whisper and her eyes begged for forgiveness.

She had missed him terribly and while she was usually not one for being mushy, it was hard to hold herself together right now.

His ears swept to the side as her expression changed. He was not trying to upset her… he knew she had to leave… he knew she could not have stayed… he could not fault her for doing what was best for her. Even if he had missed her terribly and was only a shell of his former self without her by his side. But she did not need to know that. Sachiel could not let her know that he had suffered in her absence. That his life had grown desaturated as the days without her increased in number. Pretty big shithead… she retorted quickly, the sour note in her voice impossible to miss … no need to rub it in or anything. He swallowed a whine before it had a chance to spill past his lips.

As she stepped toward him he almost stumbled backward. Part of him was not sure that she was actually here. Maybe he had finally gone loopy in her absence. Maybe she was never coming back.

Her voice came again, soft and broken; begging him to listen. This time he could not hold back the whine that burned in the back of his throat. You know, he hummed, a corner of his mouth curling upward as he took a clumsy step toward her, you were always my favourite shithead. And she would always be.

Without giving her a chance to respond Sachiel rushed toward her, his chest crashing against hers as he dropped his chin over her shoulder and pulled her in as close as possible. There had been a time when he had been angry with her for leaving him all alone, but Sachiel knew he couldn’t hold onto that anger. Not when he knew that it had not been an easy choice for her to make, and that she had needed to leave in order to battle the demons that consumed her.

But she was here. She had survived. He did not care if it was not a permanent return—he was just glad to see her free of the darkness that clung to her.

ridge is a mature character

aka he curses a lot due to his frustation with his memory loss

x

ridge associates colours with moods/feelings & uses them to describe others

She couldn't bring herself to reply. Maybe that was a good thing for she soon found herself overwhelmed with emotions. She had not realized how badly she had missed him until contact was made. She met back by forcing herself as far into his fur and skin as she could. There was no denying the flare of her nostrils as she breathed in his scent.

This was what she had been missing. No wonder she could not find herself completely back at the Plateau. No amount of work or new faces had returned everything.

She had left part of herself here it seemed, somewhere in his scent and touch.

Would she ever confess these things verbally? Most likely not but she liked to think she didn't need to. Perhaps he already knew just from the dampness that built around her eyes, the way she pressed into him like she couldn't stand on her own or the way she breathed him in like he was oxygen. The girl was undeniably a bit of a mess.

I better be. She had finally found her voice and of course it was a soft retort that escaped her.

His breath escaped him as she pressed into him, returning his embrace with one of her own. It was as though she had never left. All the feelings he had suppressed in her absence had resurfaced, gasping for life as her scent consumed him. The hurt, it was still there, so was the fear that she would leave again. But she was home. That was all that mattered. She had come home to him. Well, maybe not just for him… although he hoped she had. There was more for her in the Lore than just him, but he was arguably the most important… or maybe that was Askan.

Was he really thinking about Askan right now?

His mismatched eyes blinked shut as he tucked her closer into his chest. He was worried that if he let go she would disappear again. That she wasn’t actually here… and that this was all just a really horrible dream nightmare.

I better be.

A soft laugh escaped him at her comment and, if his eyes had been open, he would have rolled them dramatically in her face. You’re in the top five, for sure, he hummed once more, his words disturbing the soft hair behind her ear as they stumbled off his tongue. Hell, he had missed teasing and tormenting her. Despite her greyscale fur she had brought technicolour back into his world—everything made sense once again.

ridge is a mature character

aka he curses a lot due to his frustation with his memory loss

x

ridge associates colours with moods/feelings & uses them to describe others