Whisper Marsh (M) hold on to this lullaby

This thread is now open for any who might want to offer some comfort and support. I am hoping to establish this part of (northern) Whisper Marsh as a subterritory in Borden's name; name to be determined.

hold onto this lullaby even when the music's gone

Rook's legs folded beneath him as Borden recognized his face. "There you are," the thought came, repeated. The younger Lyall's tail waved and gently pressed his forehead to Borden's in something likened to a "hug." His father was still there and everything was okay. He inched forward to nestle himself into his parent's side, but watched sadly as his chance to answer the standing question quickly passed him by.

"No, no, no, no," he whimpered against his father's own whines. "No-no-no, Dad, it's all right, it's okay..." It was in desperation that he nosed Borden's ear, wanting so much to see that knowing look again. "Look at me," he implored with a soft yip, the sort of tone a cub would use when they were begging for just a few minutes more of playtime before bed. "Please."

Impulsively, he set his ear to Borden's ribcage, that rugged heart beating, albeit in a slower rhythm than he last remembered. As much as he wanted to make Borden look at him, Rook simply looked on in anguish, uncertain as to what he should do. The cues of pain on the patriarch's body were hard to miss. His ears were pinned back, his brows were drawn downward and though his eyes never looked for Rook's again, Rook knew then that this was it. After this, there would be no more...

No more theatrics, no more tricks, no more deceit... This was where The Prestige had finally come to light.

Had Rook been watching closely? Had this all been enough, for him, for Borden?

He couldn't be sure. All he knew in this very instant was that he wanted to be sure that he was loved, had been loved... and that Borden, too, knew in the very last moments of his life that he had been taken care of, coddled, and so very loved. "Dad?" he mewled, nosing the ear that had relaxed and grown still. There was no answer, not even sign of struggle nor a hint of prolonged pain. Borden looked as though he could have simply fallen asleep as his face further relaxed.

A long time ago, some five years before this very moment, Borden Lyall had come to Relic Lore to make name for himself when the stakes were high and he had nothing to lose. Now, in his stead, his lookalike son, the youngest of his brood, had come to take his place. Grizzly Hollow had been established and lost and reclaimed, and the family was still together, even if only in bits and pieces. If this was not a tale full of morals and examples to live by and a story of both loss and fulfillment, there would be no telling what was.

For all Rook knew, this was where his story truly began, where he would begin to pick up the rest of the pieces and make Grizzly Hollow something all his own. This was the Prestige where the thundrous roar of applause waited for him to take a bow. But, first... there was that first step to be taken. It came as an attempt to remove his like-sized body from his father's side, knowing that the warmth of Borden's body would cool and the motionlessness of his heart and chest would hold no comfort for his grief. Then, in a series of steps that led to and from the tree line of his part of the forest.

In his despair and heartache and stubbornness, Rook found he did not have the strength to carry on. He was still his father's son and so selfishly wished he had more time to be as such. Without much hesitance beneath a star-filled sky, he buried his face into Borden's shoulder as if it were the only sanctuary he had left, all the words and declarations of affection still unsaid on the tip of his tongue.

Chances are I have a BEN WHISHAW gif for that.

It was hard to say what carried the white man out this far. He did not know his brother particularly well. He did not know his father particularly well. But given what he knew now about his father's condition, it was slightly concerning to catch his scent on the wind so far from home. An old twinge of anger flared up — home had such a unique way of bringing his anger out of him in ways the Sanctuary never had— as he wondered if the old man was leaving once more. But it was just some vestigial thought, a remainder of of a time too many years ago that had long since passed. Borden no longer had his wits about him. Borden was no longer accountable for anything. If he had felt uneasy being around his own father before, he surely felt uneasy now.

How do you grieve for someone you hardly know?

This was a question he meditated on quite a bit, his paws lazily tugged by the slow movement of water through the rocks. There was a blood bond between himself, Rook, and his father. But the bond was weak and whatever it has been before had been eroded by time and bitterness. And in Rook's case, there had simply been no opportunities. And there were hardly opportunities now, given the kind of "first" impressions they had made on each other. It was hard to want to get to know someone so suspicious, so assuming. Hocus had seen all these traits before in Borden anyways. Rook was, it seemed, just a copy of a man he found to be unpalatable. He frowned. It was easy to feel bad for the pair of them: it was clear that the end was close. But it was much harder to empathize with them.

His paws came to a halt several feet away from the pair of twins at the foot of a lone cedar tree. For a moment, it was hard to tell which one was Borden and which one was Rook, but when he noticed that sound came from only one of them... that movement came from only one of them it was very clear who was who.

He felt a kick in his chest.

Was it grief?

Motionless, the white man watched over this younger brother, unable to explain to himself how felt in this moment and unable to do what he knew to be the right thing. He should have gone to his brother. He had done this a dozen times in both the Pilgrimage and the Sanctuary. He hushed the tears and said some words. But he could find none now. The tongue in his mouth felt vaguely dry. This was his father. 

And all he could do was raise his voice to summon the rest of the wolves.

Maybe they would know what to do.

(This post was last modified: Oct 13, 2015, 04:03 AM by Hocus.)

Veho was returning from harvesting herbs when he heard the call. After the porcupine had decimated the caches, the eldest medic had sent about building a small barricade around the healing den to prevent any further pirates from stealing what wasn’t theirs. Once he felt the healing supplies were more safely protected than they had been before, the man began trips back into the surrounding areas with much more frequency than before. If he wasn’t seeing to Borden, then he was gone from the territory, sampling whatever he could to hurry home with his prizes before the frost swallowed up what little remained. Some things, like ergot and salmonberry, had already gone as the days began to shorten and the chill settled into the forest. Fortunately, the chaga mushroom was not as ephemeral as some other fungus – this was what he needed for the Lyall patriarch, and was often the reason the man set out after checking on his aging patient.

There was a small pile of mushrooms, folding carefully in dead fern frons to carry back to Grizzly Hollow. (While he often used these mushrooms for his own purposes, it wouldn’t do to ruin them now, no matter what their ultimate fate would become.)

The howl had a desperate timbre to it. While Veho could not immediately place the voice (vaguely familiar, but not well known), the urgency was enough to spur the man to change his path, ears flattening against his skull as thoughts began to race through his skull. It was only a call to come together, and perhaps the lack of detail was so concerning. Was it Rook? Had something changed with Borden? Had something happened to the little lord, Tomen? His heart began to quicken as his tail spun in worried whirls, as if he might propel himself faster to the scene.

What he found there was not entirely unexpected, but punched the air out of his lungs all the same. Grey eyes grew wide as he first took in Hocus, undoubtedly the source of the summons (he would have recognized the other males’ voices), followed by Borden…and then Rook. Even without coming any closer, he knew one of his fears had been confirmed. Everything was finally taken its toll on the former founder of Grizzly Hollow. He’d told his partner that the patriarch’s time would come soon, but even he was taken off-guard by it. All at once, the man was glad he’d come. Privately, he hoped for Titan’s presence as well – among the pack, they were cognoscenti when it came to the dead and the dying. If Borden hadn’t gone immediately, he made need help.

The thought of assistance finally spurred the gray wolf on, chuffing softly as he deposited his small pack nearby. Hocus was offered a small nudge on his shoulder before he moved past the older man, standing at Rook’s side as he crooned softly. “If I could heal your wounds with words of love,” Veho sighed, gaze moving from the alpha to Borden, looking as if he’d fallen asleep peacefully in the marsh. If not for Rook’s clear distress and Hocus’ summons, the scene might have looked serene to a passer by.

Picking his head up, he addressed Hocus softly. “There is nothing I can do for your father now. He’s gone. Quickly, easily. He’s at peace. But if you’d like to say some words…?”

VEHO MACIEO

& all I see is him and me forever and forever

He hadn't really known his grandfather. Everything in Tomen's mind which formed some understanding of Borden Lyall came directly from Rook. Though he had once been curious to meet him, properly, softly spoken excuses and delays had prompted him not to push it, and as he had grown older, it was simply a fact of life that he let his patriarch have his peace. With time had come some comprehension of the ills which had befallen the man, and Tomen had never wanted to be a burden, or get in the way of healing. That the illness wasn't something to recover from, that realisation had come later yet, and by that point he had long come to accept that he should keep his distance.

There was something about the howl which rang out from beyond the territory, something harrowing and final. Tomen enjoyed listening to the calls of other wolves, for it seemed as though his own pack sang so infrequently, but this... this was something for them. He couldn't explain it, could only turn towards the source and start walking, moving past the borders of the territory without his usual hesitation. That wasn't the kind of call that could be ignored.

Almost in a daze, the young Attaya-Lyall pushed forward, and as he travelled he came across Veho's fresh scent, and knew that the others must be just as obliged to answer it. Further still, there was the musk of an unknown but familiar man, and then, not long before coming on the scene itself, those of his father and grandfather.

The boy stopped and stared, reluctant to make those final steps which would take him into their midst, which would cement whatever had happened here, would make it real. His father, laid beside his father, who was too still, and Veho at his side with soft words. And the man who had called them here to see it.

Taking a breath, the boy stepped toward the white wolf, whose identity was unknown save for the fact he was family. He couldn't bring himself to go to his father, to disrupt his grief, to inject himself into such a private moment. Finding comfort in the scent of the white man, for it was so very similar to Rook's, Tomen leaned his light frame against the larger man. He stayed quiet, understanding the meaning of the medic's words, eyes wandering to Veho and then to his uncle, suddenly and keenly wanting to hear what he might say.

ROOK LYALL

With his face hidden away into Borden's ruff, Rook was oblivious to the world beyond the fading warmth of his father's body. It was only when a howl broke out near him did a gasp flee into his lungs and he pulled away from the patriarch. His eyes never left that patchy pelt of browns, tans, and grays, though. He didn't want to see anyone; he couldn't even think of what emotion what might be on their faces when they realized for themselves that Borden Lyall was gone.

His body shook from the cries he kept at bay and he placed his face back into the nook where his head perfectly fit at Borden's neck met his shoulder. He sniffed, crying to himself in a series of low notes that was only interrupted when Veho arrived. "If I could heal your wounds with words of love," the Medic offered. Rook couldn't help but to shake it head. When he felt Veho move away, the Leader frantically stood up to take one unsteady step after him.

"Help me," he begged, looking to both his partner and his older brother. He had to do a double-take to even notice that his son was also there at Hocus' side. "Help me," he repeated, taking back the step he had taken and collapsing onto the ground. He sat with his ears folded back, the whole of his body quaking with grief now that it had all started to sink in.

"Ve-ho," he whined, at a loss as what to do with himself. His arms buckled and it was almost pathetic in the way that he angled himself back towards Borden. "Veho, I can't-- I can't breathe." At long last there came a whimper that was followed by a sob and a gasp for breath, the heartbreak being too much to bear.

Chances are I have a BEN WHISHAW gif for that.

When a heart wrenching cry broke the peaceful silence, Jynx's hairs stood on end. She was just at the fringes of the hollow, checking up on the borders to make sure they were safe, and possibly grab a snack while at it. Her yellow eyes narrowed beneath furrowed brows. The cry had come from beyond the furthest reaches of her home...somewhere further out in the neighboring marsh. And the voice...she didn't recognize it at all. But still, something had to be wrong. No one called out like that, without just reason. Setting off past the borders and into the longer grasses of the marsh, she maintained a brisk pace. She wasn't sure if she could be of any help. In fact, she hadn't the slightest idea what had happened. Her ankle had long since healed from it's nasty sprain, even having survived the stress of the recent moose hunt. Yet just to be on the safe side, she never pushed herself too far. Even a seemingly well healed injury could flare up again if you were too rough and careless. She had been doing her best to try and fit in with the pack, but her progress was slow going. Rook and Veho always seemed busy in some way or another, Tomen she had not gotten around to spending some time with, and the other females seemed scarce, only their scents a hint to their presence.

What she did know, was that there was one male in the pack who was of even greater importance than Rook. The Alpha, who had yet to reveal his true identity to her (and vice versa) had mentioned his father once. But not in detail, nor name. Judging by the fact that she and Rook were of the same age, his father was probably in his golden years by now. She envied the mismatched eyed boy. At least he had the luxury of being reared by parents who were, or had been, physically present in his life. Jynx on the other hand, did not even know of her true parents names, or what they looked like. Instead her mentor, whose time she had spent with was brief, was the closest thing to a parent she had ever known. Gliding through the thinning reeds, a single cedar tree stood out. But it was not the tree that caught her attention, as she stopped. It was the huddled pair of wolves beneath it. At first, she struggled to distinguish one from the other. Their markings, the colors of their coats were exactly the same. But then she realized, as one of them moved, that it was Rook. The other, his father, who made not a sound. Not even his sides fell with the telltale movement of breathing.

Instantly, she knew what had happened here. A nauseating wave of dread rocked her to her very core, and all she could do was stand there, rooted to her spot. Rook and his father were not alone, she finally noticed. Veho was there too, and so was another male, white in color, who Jynx had not met before. Even Tomen was present, latched closely to the side of Hocus. Her ears folded back against her skull, sun colored eyes filled with sorrow. She had hoped to one day meet this man, the patriarch who had started it all. The one who had built Grizzly Hollow. Yes, he was old, but Rook seemed to have spoken fondly of him on the day the two met. It intrigued her, made her want the chance of meeting such a revered figure. But now that chance was gone. Only Bordens empty shell of a body remained. Veho tried to soothe Rook, to no avail, who seemed paralyzed with grief. All too aware that this was a sensitive moment, reserved strictly for blood relatives only, Jynx kept her distance, reluctant to accidentally step on any sensitive toes. Finally, she peeped up quietly. "I....I think he is having a panic attack..." She noted, especially since Rook was unable to catch his breath. She was no medic, but she had been through such an event before, when she was very young, and she remembered the symptoms well. "Is...is there anything I can do?"

(This post was last modified: Oct 14, 2015, 06:18 PM by Veho.)

That escalated quickly, Veho thought with some alarm, ears folding backwards as the alpha looked from packmate to packmate for any form of help. Just what the man thought he wanted, the medic couldn’t be sure – comfort, reassurance, or perhaps even to bring his father back. It was hard to tell whether or not he’d progressed through some stages of grief, though now was hardly the time to ask. Before anyone could offer a word, another wolf arrived and answered Hocus’ call – how many would come? The male dreaded the answer. Grief was a difficult thing to deal with, much less when many were suddenly struck with the loss of a dear one.

Inhaling deeply, he gave Wacipi a brief nod, acknowledging her willingness to help. Brushing briefly towards her, he leaned in to murmur into her ear. “I am going to try again with Rook. If you could make sure Hocus and Tomen are alright…?” he suggested – while outwards appearances indicated the other pair were taking it a bit better than the alpha, it would be wrong to assume. After all, Borden was Hocus’ father, too, and Tomen’s grandfather – a loss was a loss, for all of them. He hadn’t gotten along with Hocus, nor was Tomen obstreperous or prone to acting out, but it would be wrong to dismiss one’s feelings as less than the other’s, simply because it was displayed differently.

“If I can’t get him to calm down, I’ll need you to go to the healing den and find some lavender. Alright?”

Veho didn’t wait long at the female’s side, for the alpha would continue to struggle to breath regardless of her answer. Giving her a final nod, the male jogged to Rook’s side quickly, only the tip of his left ear indicating he was still monitoring the peripheral world. Were a situation to unravel quickly, he wanted to be aware that he might react appropriately. Without a word, he laid by the masked man’s side, wrapping his chin over his partner’s shoulder blades in an unspoken gesture of comfort. “You can breath, Rook. You can,” he murmured softly, his tail settling over the other male’s own bushy banner. “Focus on me for a moment, mhm? Breath in through your nose. Nice and easy. And then out through your mouth. Slow and steady. You want to feel the earth against your body and, in again, okay? Through your nose. And exhale through your mouth,” the medic coached, ear swiveling as he tried to determine whether the Lyall’s breathing was returning to a more normal rate.

Pressing closer, he pushed his nose against a bear-like ear. “Take my love, for love is everlasting. The truth that was once spoken: to love another person is to see the face of the Ancestors,” he whispered, laying his heart bare before brushing a soothing lick across Rook’s crown, as a parent might comfort an unhappy child. “You are loved. By all here. Borden is not gone forever, my dear – simply from this body, from pain. He lives in you, and you can do this. Breath.”

VEHO MACIEO

& all I see is him and me forever and forever

He hadn’t expected the familiar howl to go up, brows drawing down questioningly to his entourage as they finally broke free of the Cherry trees that bordered on the northern edge of the Cedarwood. What was… Was that @Hocus? But that didn’t matter now. Things just kept getting stranger and stranger. As one took a deep breath in he shook his pale head, tipping his nose to the sky to call back on their behalf I’m back. I’m coming. With an apologetic look thrown to the side.

His legs ached, his stomach grumbled, weary from the long journey, but it was all pushed to the side with the thoughts of what could have possibly happened in his absence. Aniu’s words still burned in the back of his mind, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth but hearing it from her had helped to bring him some peace. He shook out his thickening winter coat, the movement bringing some brief relief to his limbs before he picked up his pace again, the sound of paws pounding agains the earth their only conversation.

Was it too late? What had happened?

How long would it take them to get to where they needed to be?

Directions would have been nice.

Feel free to skip me if it comes to my turn and I don't post within a days time.

Titan held a beat up bobcat in his jaws. The thing hung limply there, and more fresh wounds littered his front legs coating the old scars in soon to be new ones. Titan had been bringing the thing back to the den for Rook or Quil because he thought that they may want it for something. Elettra had used bobcat and coyote fur to carpet the floor of her medicinal den and the pups birthing den. Titan had noted that during his stay, and he wondered if Quil may want to do the same. At least they no longer had a bobcat prowling around their western border.

It was Hocus's call that brought Titan's attention to the southern lands beyond the forest. The marsh was an area between what was once his home in Whisper Caverns and what was now his home in Grizzly Hollow. A stab of pain plucked at his heart at the reminder that his family and pack had moved on without him even knowing. Whisper Caverns wasn't there anymore, even if the caves still stood.

However it was the tone of this howl which kept him from worrying about the past for too long. Titan just wanted to get there quickly to see what was wrong. He dropped the bobcat near the den but not at it, and then sprang forward angling himself to face the south. The wolf ran as fast and long as his speed and stamina would let him. The blood flowed from the wounds on his legs but Titan ignored the pain. They were only flesh wounds and those would heal soon enough.

Upon arriving Titan noticed firstly the number of wolves gathered, and that they all held the hollows scent. He recognized Wacipi, Rook, Veho, a strange white wolf unknown to him, and another scent that made Titan uneasy. The sugary sweet smell of death was only just beginning to lace around the scent of Borden, and Titan realized that he would no longer have to worry about the old male. He slowed to a stop behind Hocus. Those blue orbs swung around the faces of the wolves before stopping on Borden's lifeless form. A low whine-like growl echoed form the dark wolf's snout before he quieted himself.

Veho was trying to comfort Rook who looked totally crumpled. Instantly Titan's heart reached out to him, and he felt his body slip past Hocus and Wacipi to stand at the other side of Rook opposite from Veho. Titan was very aware of how he must smell to the others right now. A mixture of blood, sweat, and bobcat probably would clog anyone's nose. So he didn't lean on Rook, but instead pawed at the young Lyall and stuck his muzzle into Rook's shoulder to offer support.

The dark Thorben didn't really have much of a father figure in his life. Ash had tried to fill the hole left by Sloane's disappearance, but in the end Titan was only annoyed at the Hervok man for it. He couldn't fully understand the loss Rook felt right now, and probably wouldn't understand it until his mother Narimé passed.

"And so it has been and so it is written, on the doorway to paradise, that those who falter and those who fall, must pay the price... You never really faltered or fell did you Borden? Not like my father did. I don't think he'll make it to the place you are going to." Titan commented low while glancing to Borden and sighing. He couldn't do much else but offer his presence as comfort.

(This post was last modified: Nov 12, 2015, 02:57 AM by Titan.)

Learn from these streets, it can be bleak,
Accept no defeat, surrender retreat...

All she knew was that the call was sad, like that of her mother's when she had summoned the Caverns family together one final time. Part of her wanted to back away, to change course and avoid, but the rest of her heart was drawn to that solemn cry. She tread oh so carefully upon the pine needle floor, as though her very footfalls could amplify the permeable atmosphere of loss that was settling so completely over the cedarwood forrest. Never before had she known death in another wolf, and as she came upon the scene, Nineva was able to realize that even despite the upheaval of her family, life had been merciful upon them so far. This would not be her, crying over her father Ash's empty body, for a very, very long time. In fact, her father was in such picturesque health that she could not foresee such a pitiful demise befalling him in any expanse of time.

Rook's broken breathing and gasped pleas greatly disturbed the grayscaled girl, and she felt pressured to attach herself to someone, anyone so that she might ground herself here. The emotion was becoming so strong within the air, so foreign in its cause, that she felt she might become lost in it and disappear. Tail curled tightly against her stomach as her ears dropped beside her temples, she sought comfort amongst strangers. A tinge of shame infected her breast, for who was she to seek such a thing? She had not met Borden before this very moment, could in no way share their pain. This was a family she was intruding upon, and yet she could not stop herself.

The girl sidled up next to @Tomen, leaning a gray shoulder against his lanky side. Her muzzle touched the height of his nearest forelimb, a silent show of support that was perhaps more of a comfort to herself than the other child.