Blackened Down gypsies, tramps and thieves

No? Did she just tell him no? Laurel watched her uncertainly, on the verge of jumping up and high-tailing it out of there. She circled him, which only made him feel more uncomfortable. What was her problem? First she was a rabbit thief, then she was being all depressing, and now the circling. "Do you really have such a strong need to cuss all of the time?" Laurel snapped at her. He was prone to it more, especially now without any adult to guide him and correct him when he did. But he didn't use it in idle conversation and certainly not when he was asking who someone; he at the very least had a small ounce of self-respect left in him. But Laurel didn't want to anger the large, very angry-looking woman any more than he already had. Uncomfortable lying down, he sat back up. Had she been asking for his name, or for a general who do you think you are? "But uh, I'm.. Laurel?"

WARNING: Pilea posts often are full of curse.

"Not all of the time..." She answered simply. Her voice was flat, low and monotone. It usually was, fitting with her gruff, uncaring and nasty attitude. "Just when I'm irritated." And then, as she circled around to his front again, a small smirk, showing some sign of emotion, mostly amused with her own words. After all, when was she not irritated?

He spoke his name then, Laurel, though it did litter to satisfy her. She huffed and then, as he had, fell down to a plop, though she didn't lay, only sat now that the other wolf had lifted himself up into that position. "Your family name..." She grumbled, obviously annoyed he did not introduce himself fully the first time. However, she often formally introduced her full name either to others. So could she really hardly blame him? "You see, I've only known one type of wolf with yellow eyes and markings on their shoulders like that: Ritters."

He had rarely felt the need to introduce his name — his real name. It was a tie to family he didn't really know, to a father who only looked at him with hatred burning in his fiery eyes. Sahalie had not raised him a Tainn, either, and so family by blood was such a foreign concept to the young boy. His jaw clenched uncomfortably, not feeling like he owed the woman anything; certainly not his name. This was a conversation he felt no need to have and part of him thought it'd be best just to leave. Laurel's face wrinkled in annoyance, though his tattered ears perked forward as she began to explain why she'd asked for his name.

Her words were so shocking that he jumped up to his paws, ears pinning against his skull as he stared at her, wide eyed in shock. "Wh-what?" his voice was breathless as he tried to comprehend what she'd just told him; something he'd abandoned looking for. Family. He looked her over now, her own description even fitting herself as a Ritter. This woman, this foul, evil, cold-hearted woman... was family?

He had abandoned trying to figure out where he'd come from. He'd abandoned trying to understand how Sahalie had worked. He no longer wanted to get close to her, he no longer wanted her love, nor Larkspur's — even if he had still been alive. The old man had never told him there were others and beyond the both of them, he had assumed it was where their line ended.

The old flame of curiosity sparked in him again and his first instinct was to douse it. But Laurel's heart ached to belong, ached to be a part of something, even if he was pushing everything away. The boy swallowed thickly. "Larkspur Ritter was my father.."

WARNING: Pilea posts often are full of curse.

She could see his jaw clench as he hesitated, his nose wrinkling in obvious irritation at the mention of his family name. It was a response which didn't shock Pilea, for she knew her family to be not a very... plesant one, especially so being her father and what he had been proclaimed to have done to the family. An old story, history in the past now, hardly worth bringing up with her Ritter's Ridge was far away from here.

Then he jumped and it was enough to cause Pilea to jump up to her feet again and back, body tense, ears falling back. He stammered and her nose wrinkled, trying to decide if he was going to try and have a go at her. Had their family been as cruel to him as it had to her? Oddly enough, it hadn't even been her father that had done so but the little twit of a niece that had been the cause of her son's death.

Then, finally, he decided to answer her. In truth it would have been probably been the best for the boy to have not found her. To have gone on without the knowledge of his true family, for all that seemed to be left was this bitter woman with sour stories of a family she had long ago left behind. To his answer, she smirks once more and then, a huff. "Well, isn't this interesting..." Her eyes fell up and down, looking over the boy again. "He's my father too."

This... was wrong. He had often dreamed of a day where he'd find his roots. Sure, he had not anticipated finding a long-lost sister, but the feeling had certainly been better than this. He was supposed to be happy, supposed to ask the woman — his sister — more about his family. He had dreamed of joy and a happy, loving reunion; one with sweet kisses and tail-wags. Was it more fitting, then, that finding his family was met with teeth and snarls? Pilea was a version of him that he could be, cold and bitter. A rabbit-thief, a wolf hardened by the world. Laurel hated her, he did not want to be her and yet, the way things were going, becoming like his older sister was seeming more like a reality. He was already bitter most days, the weight of the world pulling him down.

Would a reunion with his birth-mother have been the same? Would he find her hardened and angry? Laurel did not want to be that way. He wanted more. It was always more, but lately he asked for so little.

Lauraceae wanted to cry out of the hopelessness of it all. Or maybe a scream was more appropriate. Something, anything to let go of all of the feelings he'd pushed deep down. Perhaps, though, his best course of action was to continue to do as he had always done: keep stomping those feelings down. The yearling stood now, his tail high as he glared at his sister. He hated her. He hated her like he hated Sahalie, like he hated Alastor, like he hated Larkspur. Hating them was easier than being sad, and the words childishly echoed in his mind: I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.

He wanted her to be upset, he wanted Pilea to suffer. It was not right to feel that way, and he knew it. But could he help his feelings at this point? Was it so wrong to feel so strongly about the wolves who had done him wrong? Although the woman had not done anything personally to him, she was just as bad as the rest of them. "Larkspur is dead," Laurel spat the words at her.

WARNING: Pilea posts often are full of curse.

The body, after a few moments of seemingly vibrating with anger at the information she had given him, jumped up to his paws, tail over his back. The dominant display caused Pilea's nose to crinkle in a snarl. Then, as though to do her harm, snapped the words of the death of their father. Well, this certainly was not how this meeting was supposed to go, between the eldest daughter of Larkspur and the youngestr son. She merely looked at him for a moment in silence, blinking and trying to decide how to take the information which he had given her. Like said, much of her emotion had died out long ago...

It was obvious there was no love lost between this youth and his father as he spat the information at her. "Doesn't surprise me." Were the words the finally came out of her mouth. Surely she would disappoint him yet again by the lack of reaction she gave him. Whatever feelings she had for her father at the knowledge he was dead she shoved down. After all, it had been years since she had seen him and by now he would be an old man (for she was middle-aged now herself) and it only seemed expected he would be gone by now.

After a moment and a deep breath, she turns her yellow eyes away from him but adds, "He named you after his brother, ya know. Laurel was his name." Then, turning back to her youngest brother she lifts up from her placement, eyes narrowing. "Many Back home say father murdered him." If they were taking verbal spats at one another based on the fall of their family name due to their father, then she could play at that game too.

He had thought, above all else, that the death of her father — their father — would do something. Laurel remembered his smell clearly, rotting and frozen under Quaking Vale's aspen trees. He remembered what sorry state the man had been in, and had often thought about him dying there: alone, cold, and with no one. Was he the only one that had mourned his father's passing? The yearling's teeth gritted together angrily. It wasn't fair. The woman should have been upset, angry, something. But she was just a shell.

Laurel may have tried to attack her with his words, but his older sister had more knowledge. She dropped another bomb on him, one far worse than his sister being a cruel, heartless bitch. Lauraceae was visibly shaking, his throat tight. He did not question the truthfulness in her words, and was quiet as it sunk in. He felt ill.

He was the son of a murderer.

The yearling tried to comprehend what it meant to be named after someone your father had killed. He stared at the ground, trying to piece together the information. He had always thought Larkspur had hated him, but this only seemed to confirm it.

And despite all of this new information, Laurel did not cry. He concentrated on his breathing, he stomped down any ounce of hurt and sadness that dared rear its ugly head. Instead, Laurel's blood boiled and he shook with anger. "Any other bombs you want to drop on me?"

WARNING: Pilea posts often are full of curse.

Now there was a reaction. He was quivering in his place, silent as he tried to accept the fact she had given him. That he was named after the brother his father had, in the end, been the one to end him - or so everyone in the pack had seemed to think. Larkspur had never let anything slip and had never admit it, even when he had been thrown from the pack. It was a secret that would die with him - had died with him, actually.

Then, shaking with emotion - anger, likely, he spot again and she, nonchalant as ever, rolled her shoulders. "Suppose that's the biggest I got. Before Laurel 'mysteriously died' things were okay, I guess. Dad didn't quite like being second best though so once he became lead and shit got to his head, it went down hill." She frowned at this, unhappy with the realization that her father had royally fucked up. Being the eldest of his children she was able to witness all of it. The good times, the uneasy times and then, finally, the horrible times... "After attacking my kid brother and he died, too, the pack had about enough of Larkspur's crap and ousted him. I've not seen the guy in years anyway." She explained to the yearling. Might as well as he seemed quite obvious of his family ties. Pilea only imagined how life could have been had Laurel not died or had Larkspur not lost his cool after he gained the leadership he had always wanted. Things were good for Pilea. She was the eldest and as far as she was considered, one of the strongest. She had a good placement in the ranks but after her father was oust no one seemed to look at his kin with the same air any longer. Having Pilea's pup killed by the lack of protection her little niece had given only tipped the tables for her and she too decided to get the hell out of Ritter's Ridge while she could.

(This post was last modified: Jul 08, 2018, 09:08 PM by Pilea.)

More questions popped into the young Ritter's mind. How long ago had all of this been? Was Larkspur hiding this information from Sahalie, or had she known? Had she known and was that the reason she could not love him — because he was the son of a monster? That didn't make much sense to him, because Larkspur and Sahalie always seemed to get along-ish. He couldn't have these questions answered unless he found his foster mother and that, among all things, was the very last thing he wanted to do. He would have to settle with broken information. Lauraceae was about to leave, but then a more important question popped into his mind."Wait," he tried to find Pilea's eyes. Had she been hurt by all of this, too? Laurel only heard the information, but his sister... she'd lived it. He took a breath, "Uh, do we.. have the same mom?"

WARNING: Pilea posts often are full of curse.

He shifted in his placement, seeming as though he was going to leave. He was content with the information he gave her and if he wasn't he didn't ask any more questions from her. Either way, Pilea didn't care. She had left her family behind back in Ritter's Ridge a long time ago, with only hatred and vengeance fueling her. She had not imagined ever going back, didn't even know if she could find her way back if she tried, either. By now it seemed she had spent the majority of her life wondering around as a loner then she had being a part of a pack.

She began to turn as well to leave, make her way back to her Carrion Crew until she heard her little brother say 'wait' and so, she paused, yellow eyes turning back on him. She met his attention, looking him on with that same lack of interest, a dullness in her expression as though the life had been drained from her long ago. That passion she once so held. "I wouldn't know." She answered then. "My mother's name is Senna. She was at the Ridge when I left but I've not been home in years, either. Not since my son-" She stopped suddenly, and there it was in her expression: pain, suffering, angry, agony, loss and everything else in between. In an instant, without even a snarky goodbye, she turned off and ran into the distance.