Umbra Copse bulletproof in black like a funeral

@Draven :B Sachiel is basically hugging the southern QV borders
morning | fog

The copse was much darker than the vale—more appealing. He had managed to escape the veil of orange and was greeted by an array of earthy hues, which were much more pleasing to the eye. His steps were hesitant at first, for he had not ventured out this far on his own before, and he worried about encountering wolves that did not belong to his pack. Would they be as nice as his packmates, or would their tongues be sharper and their teeth hungry for little puppies? The thought made him shudder but he continued forward, mismatched eyes wide as he drank in his new surroundings.

He hugged the border of the vale, although he had distanced himself from the orange leaves. The new trees were spindly in appearance, almost skeletal, and made Sachiel slightly uncomfortable. He knew it was important to become familiar with the neighbouring territories, for he couldn’t remain in the vale forever, otherwise he would go crazy.

Especially with all that dreadful orange.

His mismatched eyes had begun to adjust to the shift in light, his features softening as he tried to commit as much of the copse to memory. There was so many trees! Was there even a place in the Lore that did not possess the tall, woody vegetation? His mouth had fallen into a soft o shape as awe consumed him, fuelling his cautious steps into the unknown.

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

Draven was finding the process of shifting from healer in training to dad very erm - awkward to say the least. He had never had his father in his life, agent had been a temporary replacement before his mother had passed and so he had no reference point. Mom had always parented so gracefully, sternly but with such ease it had always seemed to be like first-nature. Her son, it would seem had not inherited this trait from the late alpha. The raven pelted Leigh was afraid to be too strict, fear that Sachiel would dislike him, and perhaps overcompensated by giving him too much space. He would always be available if his son wanted to talk or play or need absolutely anything at all, but he refrained from seeking the child out very often. He didn't want to smother the child.

The pup felt more like a friend than his own son, is that how it was supposed to be?

Either way, when Draven crossed Sachiel's scent heading towards the edge of the territory he was conflicted. Had Neha decided that the child was old enough to go out past the borders alone? He couldn't remember but he had no problem with it. Still, he probably shouldn't let him wander alone if he wasn't sure that his mother would be okay with it. Changing his path the father quickly caught up to were his son was staring in wonder with an open mouth towards the skeletal trees of the surrounding area. So far his short life had been nothing but the quaking trees within the territory. This vegetation was slightly more - menacing, even if it was harmless.

Draven said nothing, just walked forward and silently sat at his son's side. Letting the child take the reigns on the interaction as usual.

The ethereal trees were intimidating in appearance, making the little Leigh realize how small he really was. His mismatched gaze studied the trees that surrounded him, his pace slowing as he debated venturing further. Part of him worried he would get lost, even though he knew it was unlikely. Somehow the boy had managed to remember every trail he had stumbled across and returned to the den unscathed, much to his mother’s relief. It was not even the smells that were familiar to him, for he still struggled trying to differentiate certain scents, but it was the sights that guided him home. Despite the similarities between the striped trees Sachiel had learned their differences. He new the one with the criss-crossed stripes led to the north, an area he had not explored much of, and that the tightly striped tree led to the clearing Castel had shown him.

His ears twitched at the sound of another approaching, his hackles raising defensively as he turned his nose to the intruder. As soon as he saw the obsidian wolf strut through the trees Sachiel’s features softened and a smile tugged at his dark lips. His paws curled into the dirt with excitement as he watched his father plop himself down at his side. He did not mind that the older Leigh was a man of few words—the agouti was quickly realizing that he, too, often kept his words to himself. Returning his bi-coloured gaze to the menacing trees before them he motioned at them with his nose, a single word falling off his cherry tongue: “Spoo’py.”

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

Draven was amused when he saw the small child's hackles raise at his approach but was pleased to see them smooth down so quickly. He wasn't sure how he would react if his son's first greeting to him would be aggression. Thank god him and Neha had not had a pup intent on breaking the rules and acting out with violence. Sachiel was a good kid. An honest to god good child, he was polite, quiet and listened to his parents and his pack. In that respect they had been lucky, but it also made it harder on the father as he juggled his relationship with Neha. Was Sachiel a good pup because he's a good pup? Or was he good because his parents were stable?

It didn't matter. He had taken on the responsibility of this life and he couldn't back out of it now even if his emotions had changed. That wasn't how he had been raised, and that wasn't how he was going to raise Sachiel. Your word was as good as law and you couldn't change it like the wind or the seasons.

Sachiel'a hackles smoothed and Draven smiled back at him as he sat down, green eyes crinkling slightly as he looked over the pup. His coat pattern came from his mother but the pelt colour was closer to his own, and those mismatched eyes... he was sure to break some pretty girl's heart someday. If he wasn't as awkward as his father of course. Looking out to the "spoopy" trees the father chuckled. "They are kind of spooky, but they're also full of all kinds of plants that can help when wolves are sick." Did they usually teach children about herbs? Draven had no idea what he was doing.

There is a deer that was killed by a lynx nearby. +10 Health

awkward dad is best \o/

The colours were muted at the edge of the vale; they were not as harsh on his mismatched eyes as the never-ending orange sea that encased his pack’s territory. While the trees were spindly and were placed erratically outside the vale, they were oddly comforting. He shuffled softly in his seat, his shoulder pressed to his father’s leg. They trees weren’t too spooky with the ebony Leigh present, for Sachiel was confident nothing could hurt him as long as he was with his father. The boy was mostly independent, exploring the vale without the company of an adult and obeying the rules set in place. He kept to himself, ensuring he did not bother the adults (unless he required a playmate). He did not mind spending time by himself—sometimes he preferred it.

Sachiel understood that his parents were busy with their grown up duties and did not try to hold them back. It meant he was able to explore without a shadow following him, observing his every move. He did not stray past the borders often, and if he did he remained close, hugging the edge of the vale like he was doing now.

His ears twitched as his father spoke, his nose lifting slightly as his brows narrowed in confusion. How could plants help sick wolves? It did not make sense. Wolves did not eat plants—that was ridiculous! “T’ees he’p sick?” He asked, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. How bizarre. Surely his father was just pulling his tail… there was no way that eating plants made wolves feel better. Draven was a big fibber.

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

Sachiel seemed confused that trees might help a wolf who was sick and suddenly Draven realized trying to teach him about herbs was a bad idea. He was just a child who couldn’t even say trees right yet. But, it was too late. He was already here having this conversation and knowing his son it couldn’t just be dropped without some kind of explanation. Okay, so not all trees helped sick wolves, only some trees and also some plants and some mosses and …. Oh god. This was going to be impossible to try to explain to a pup and his head was spinning just trying to find a place to start.

Tilting his head slightly to the right at Sachiel’s frown Draven sighed, ”Um, yes. Kind of. Some trees will help if a wolf feels a certain kind of sick.” Did that help? Probably not. Standing up gently so not to knock over the pup leaning against his leg he gestured with his muzzle that they needed to walk. Looking around, praying that something would be around to help his explanation he almost sighed in relief at the sight of a patch of fir trees amongst all the cedar….which he also could have used. Being a dad was a lot harder than he thought it was going to be.

”You know how I have that den filled with plants? Any plant that could help a sick or hurt wolf is called a herb. A herb could be anything from certain types of grass, to moss, to berries or flowers and even sometimes bark from trees.” That was a lot of information but at least Draven thought it was straightforward enough for Sachiel to understand. The father reared back so his large front paws were placed up on the trunk he used his blunt claws to scratch some of the looser bark down. The distinct smell of fir filled the air and the healer smiled, ”This is white fir, if a wolf eats its bark it will help them if they have any cuts or sores, it will take some of the ouch away.” Please let this conversation be over, Draven still didn’t know what he was doing.

The tawny boy was completely oblivious to his father’s inner turmoil. His brows twisted together as he stared at the ebony male expectantly while he waited for a response. Again the older Leigh announced that trees could help a wolf feel better if they were a certain kind of sick. But surely that was impossible. Blinking furiously the boy gathered himself and trotted after his father, his ears pinned forward as he waited for further explanation. The dark male had motioned to a patch of trees that differed from the others, their needles a paler green and much plusher and calmer in appearance. The other trees were a more vibrant green, although the needles were similar in size. Their differences, however, were quite obvious to the little Leigh, as he committed both types of trees to memory.

He nodded softly in response to his father’s words as he padded toward the pale-green trees, his mismatched eyes widening as curiosity took its hold on his small boy. Herb. It was an interesting word, supported by other interesting words that his father propelled in his direction. Grass, moss, berries, flowers… the words meant little to the Leigh as he did not know what picture accompanied them. The only two that he recognized were grass and flower, for the former was common amongst the Vale and also varied in hues of green. The latter he had stumbled on by accident and had earned a few scratches due the throne bushes that shield the soft, pink-purple flowers from the rest of the Copse.

His eyes widened as his father reared onto his hind legs, his forepaws pressed to the pale brown trunk. The same brown that he had found in his own fur, along with his mothers. White fir. He nodded once more in understanding as he watched the bark fall from his father’s claws. Make the ouch go away? Huh. He stepped forward, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed at the fallen bark. “Whi’ fir,” he mumbled in response, repeating his father’s words as he nudged the brown wood with the tip of his nose. “Wha’ else ‘elp with sick o’ ouch?” He asked, although his mismatched eyes did not waver from the bark before him. He was busy trying to memorize the colour and the texture of the bark. 

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

2/3 teaching healing, 8/12 overall

Sachiel stared at him expectantly, waiting for an answer to the question that he had posed and that only further added to the pressure the father felt. He had unwittingly entered into this conversation, unaware of what was to come and now he could only hope he had the right words. Thankfully the bark and the explanation seemed to satisfy his son, who settles down to sniff its pungent odor and nudge the stiff object with his snout. Draven almost breathed a sigh of relief and prepared to steer the conversation to safer territory, offer to take the boy for a walk or play a game or something.

Unfortunately Sachiel had other plans.

This at least Draven knew ample about, taking the ouch away. Or pain relief if you weren’t a child. Which he wasn’t. But everything about this interaction made him feel as unsure as if he was the pup learning for the first time. ”Well lots of things, but different herbs only grow in certain places at different times of the year. The white fir for example only grows in certain forests but it is available all year. Grass and flowers will die in the fall so you have to get them in the summer and dry them.” Then realizing that his words might cause a panic he hurried to add, ”But it all comes back in the spring!” It wasn’t going to be gone forever, unlike when wolves die. Luckily that was a lesson Sachiel had not had to learn yet.

But he had not really answered the pups question. Humming quietly he looked around their surroundings. Thankfully he spotted the small light colour spots of ergot growing in the dense needles of the fir trees. Taking a few steps away Draven reached up with his muzzle, gripped firmly and after a few tugs was able to pull down the end of a small branch. Laying this on the ground next to the bark he nosed the fungus out from where it had been growing in the needles, intruding on a plant that wasn’t its own and making a home there. ”This is called ergot, it’s a fungus and it will help if you have a headache. You know, when your head has an ouch.” Okay, now he had another example of an ouch curing plant. Could they just got for a walk now?

It boggled the young boy’s mind that plants could make ouches feel better. The whole concept of wolves eating leafy things was mind-boggling enough, for Sachiel thought that they only consumed meat. There was a lot to being an adult wolf that Sachiel still had to learn about—but it was far too much to learn in one day.

He was fascinated by the words that tumbled from his father’s mouth, even if he did not fully understand them. Something about white fir being available all year and other plants dying in the fall. Huh. His head twisted from side to side, his brows pinched tight together as he tried to make sense of the adult words. Apparently the dying plants came back??? He shrugged and gave his father a tight nod to show he kind of understood what he was saying. For the most part. He would have to get another lesson on these magical, healing plants when he was older… and actually understood everything his father was saying…

“Grrrr-got,” he repeated confidently as he stepped toward the fungus, his nostrils flaring as he committed the scent (and sight) to memory. For head ouches. He poked at the branch with a wide grin tugging at his lips, his tail wagging enthusiastically behind him. “Show more! Walk!!!” He chirped as he bounced on his paws, his youthful gaze fixated on his father’s dark features. It was fascinating standing in one place but the boy wanted to see more... and he wasn't allowed straying too from the Vale just yet, so this was the perfect excuse to escape the suffocating orange.

(This post was last modified: Oct 19, 2017, 09:34 PM 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