|
Post by Mist on Apr 29, 2008 12:22:43 GMT -5
Golden eyes gleam brightly as Raido greets her with a fond nuzzle. Mist smiles as she thinks how far the cub has come since she first met him. He had been lonely and bitter, never having known the type of life or family he inwardly longed for. Now, he has found love and acceptance, as well as freedom to live his own life and make his own decisions. She finds no surprise in the fact that he is enamored with Dakota. Raido needs the guidance of a strong mann, and any cub would look up to and admire the varg that Dak has become.
She watches with interest and amusement at the young mann's actions, smiling secretly at the sight as she thinks of Dak's kindness, but wonders about his feelings for cubs. She needn't have worried in the least, and any such thoughts are almost immediately dispersed at Dak's first words to the cub. Raido has changed in other ways as well. He has become very much how any cub his age should be - his playful curiosity and evident interest at the handsome mann have Mist glancing in further amusement at Dak to see what his reactions are.
A moment later the cub speaks, and the ash-grey Drappa has to struggle to keep from laughing merrily out loud. She does however refrain, and her eyes and smile reflect her feelings on the matter silently. Dak handles the situation quite well, and speaks to Raido on a personal level, telling of his great capacity to be a wonderful father if he would so choose in the future.
It is not until the black mann speaks of Raido's father that something strikes at both the Drappa and the cub's hearts. Mist discretely sees Raido's pleading look and nods almost imperceptively. Somehow she understands exactly what he is trying to say, and though she will always wish that Dias had been strong as a father as he was as a brother, she is grateful his son has at least accepted the fact that he was not always someone to be ashamed of. The awkwardness is smoothed over, however, and hopefully neither Dak or Silve will have noticed anything strange or uncomfortable. It is her hope that Dak will perceive Raido's change in manner as something like sadness that he never knew his father. For, in one sense this is true. He never got to know the brother that Mist knew, and loved.
She decides to speak up and clarify, inputting just a small bit of information. "Yes, Dias was my brother - and Raido was told to come find me when he had no one else to turn to." This is somewhat vague, but no so much that it should make one of the listeners wonder as to her meaning. It also gives the impression that Dias died either before Raido was born or before he was old enough to remember him, and that someone else raised him until he left to find the - then unknown - varg named Mist.
Silve's words come next, causing the Drappa to turn to her and reflect her smile. "Yes indeed, Silve. We do not often have meetings of our packmates or potential ones, it warms my heart as well." She finds it interesting that the silver fae chooses to answer Raido's question to the other mann. It is indeed true, but will be interesting to see what Raido thinks of it. Raising a brow at Silve's request for permission to tell her tale Mist nods graciously. "I am sure you will tell it admirably, dear Silve. Yes, if the others do not mind, I would love to hear your tale."
This tale will be, in a way, a night time story, for the sky has continued to darken, and the travel-weary vargs will soon need to take their rest for the night. The den Mist plans to take the others to for tonight's sleep is not far, but there will be time for Silve to tell her story before they arrive there. Perhaps it is her practice of keeping up with her cubs, but though it has been a long day - and a long journey, Mist is not as yet as tired as she would have expected.
((Ok, my reasons for putting in the last paragraph is because we're going to RP their dreams(Dak and I for sure, and Silve and Raido if you want to) ^_^ So they need to eventually/soon get to the den and go to sleep.))
|
|
|
Post by Dakota Spirit on Apr 29, 2008 20:29:59 GMT -5
Long moments pass as Dak listened to each of his companions speak in turn. His jaws clench tightly as new information is revealed and with it the magnitude of his mistake. Having lived in a similar situation, Dak knew he himself did not like memories of his past, just as the pup's posture seemed to be suggesting. "I apologize.", the male said looking to Mist. "I did not realize that Raido was of your kin." Then, leaning back down to the cub's level Dakota addressed him personally, lowering his voice into a calm and understanding tone. "Do not fret, young one.", he said. "I know well the sting of your pain, for I too lost my family at an age not to far from your own." He smiled reassuringly, in an effort to restore the young mann's joyous expressions. "The pain eases in time.", Dak at last continued. "...and until then, you must trust in those that love you. If I've learned anything of your Aunt in this short length of time it is that she will always be there for you. So do not fret for what has been lost, instead look to the future now. Look forward, for there are great rewards to be had." Finished, Dak rose again to his normal hight. Hearing the plans of a story, the dark wolf place himself in a sitting position. Though somewhat unaware of what his actions, Dakota then placed a strong foreleg next to the pup and leaned toward him protectively. Yet he said no word of these actions, they seemed to have come as naturally as hunting to the male.
"A story!", he exclaimed, voice ringing vibrantly in the air. "Yes, Silve. Do tell us your tale. I am eager to hear your spin on such things." Though to a lesser degree now, the big varg had always found joy in legends and long tales. The mere though conjured up memories of his short childhood, the time in which he had begged all in his pack to spare their knowledge for him. That of course, had been before the attack upon his lands and before the many moments that had led to now. And though he no longer took such comfort in legends of the gods, the male continued to listen, hoping one day to rekindle that passion. To perhaps rediscover his old self. Silve's words spoken only moments before caused him to revisit his dark despairer for the first time since entering the boarders of Doer. While he had not divulged this information to Mist at the time, Dak no longer called himself a child of the gods. He'd felt spurned by them in his youth and finding inner strength more useful at the time, he had turned from their teachings. A pang of guilt spurred by these thoughts, entered his mind then. A time would come for him to face those feelings, to decide once and for what he believed in. Quietly, Dakota wondered if tonight was the night. If the lean fae's telling would be enough to finally bring such issues to a head. None the less, he remained silent, watching first Mist, then Silve for a time. Then tuning his eye's back to the cub's rusty colored face, he winked again and smiled. Such a young spirit..., he thought quietly. Should there be any gods in the sky...pray that they spare him mercy from any further hurt. His thick dark ears flicked attentively as he continued to watch the three companions. Silently he waited for the words upon Silve's lips, wondering again what effect their meaning was sure to have on him
|
|
-Raido-
Cub
See the lightning in your eyes
Posts: 35
|
Post by -Raido- on May 10, 2008 14:31:42 GMT -5
The smaller wolf listened carefully to the older males words, those sharp, moonsilver eyes etching the details in his mind as much as his ears scanned the words and tried hard to remember them. As Dak placed his leg near him, he yipped and snuffled at it for a moment. He still seemed horribly big to the little pup, and he nuzzled against the paw, before flopping down, pressed against it. The other fae spoke of the big wolf, and to Raido's surprise, of him as being part of Fenris' children. The little wolf's tail motored again, and he barked with excitement.
"Told you!" he yipped up at Dak, a smug little smile on his puppy muzzle. When the male winked, the little wolf felt a warm glow rush through him. Such attentions were enough to make him very happy, as foolish as it might have sounded. He had longed for someone to look up to, and right now, at least, this male was exactly what he needed. In the back corner of his mind the little wolf couldn't help but wonder how long this could last. The bigger wolf had no stake in him, and his kindness would only last for the day. The wolf's muzzle sobered at that thought, but he tried not to let any see him. Instead, he settled himself and waited for the tale to begin.
(Thought it was Silve's, but I posted anyway)
|
|
Silve
Sikla
Scout of Deor
Praise for Father Sun, and Sister Moon.
Posts: 193
|
Post by Silve on May 12, 2008 11:16:19 GMT -5
Silver ears twitched slightly with the talk of family. Silve did not know that Mist and Raido were related. She filed that particular information away in her memory banks, figuring that it might come in handy some day. But otherwise she did not respond to it, for her own knowledge of her own family was slim, and though she felt a pity stirring in her gut, she thought that the cub would not appreciate any sympathetic remarks on her part. Luckily enough his focus was consumed with Dakota and not very much on the others. It was endearing to watch, the cub's strict admiration and Dakota's muted affection. It was the way of wolf males to love cubs dearly, but to also seem to be somewhat apart from them, though the black mann seemed more content with keeping the excitable pup in pleasant thoughts.
A sliver of a smile came to her next, listenning to Mist's soothing pleasant voice speaking of more pleasant things. She felt that what Mist had said was quite enough, and so just nodded while azure orbs glittered with happiness. Half excited and half self-conscious, Silve began to explain her tale. "Now, this is not a well known story, but it was passed on to me by my father and to him by his own father, for my blood's legacy is that of the wise storyteller." These were the very words conferred upon her when her father had began the tale, although this legacy was not truly hers for under normal circumstances the next male would take that role. "It was after the beginning, after Tor and Fenris first mated and their mating brought forth the world." The traditional words that marked the beginning of a story.
Drawing herself up, trying to match her father's impressive way of telling a story that was told not just through words, but intonation and voice and body and feeling. "There came a she-varg, a beautiful Drappa called by her kin Meladonia. Up until her time, no varg had ever matched her for beauty. Her fur was long, flowing and silky, much like her melodious voice. Draggas from all of this land and others heard rumor of her beauty and came from all about to take her as his own mate. For seasons they fought for the right to mate with this single female." Silve here paused to check the attentiveness of her audience, and also to ensure she had them drawn in by a dramatic pause.
After several moments passed she continued, her voice now ominous. "Then the fortunes changed as they are wont to do in some times, for it was then that the great god Fenris had fought bitterly with Tor. Alone and brooding he cast his great eyes over the Lera and it was then he saw Meladonia sleeping in the loam of the still forest. Because of his frustration, and his want to wound Tor in some way he came down from the heavens in the shape of the kindly wolf that had won her heart and defeated all comers. After mating with her he flew back up into the heavens, and Meladonia thought What have I done to betray my dearest love. Any pups that became of this must be killed." Another pause to see if she was doing well, and Silve continued.
"When Meladonia had her pups it was three in number. Steeling herself up, she killed two of them before they even had a chance to open their tiny eyes. But with the third, every time she tried to dig her teeth into his fur to kill him she was stopped as though trying to chew a rock. In other ways she attempted to slay him. She tried to roll a boulder over him, but each time a small depression came into earth, enough to keep him from harm. She tried to starve him, but he never weakened. At last she grasped the nape of his neck in her teeth and tossed him cruelly into the river, under the oath that if this somehow failed, she would raise the pup with love, and call him Volundir, or strong one. She laughed triumphantly when she saw him tip over a waterfall, but three days later she saw a black speck coming to her from down river. To her amazement it was the little black pup trotting up to her with his eyes snapped tightly shut. Nevertheless he came to her and a tiny pink tongue slipped from his muzzle to lick his mother. Thus Volundir was born to Meladonia the beautiful." Silve smiled happily when she realized she had told the story correctly, and was half hoping her companions would ask her to continue.
|
|
|
Post by Mist on May 19, 2008 21:54:58 GMT -5
Shaking her head at Dak's apology Mist smiles at the handsome mann. "There's no need for an apology, Dak. You did nothing wrong." The gentle fae sees no reason for his apology, and his next words reaffirms his kind nature. After seeing the difficulty Raido has gone through in learning of his parentage and respecting her but not wanting to offend her because of his disappointment, she is pleased to see how well he and Dak have gotten along so far. Hearing of Dak's young loss she shakes her head sadly. It seems that so many vargs have lost their families and packs at a young age. But, that is the life of a varg. Mist herself does not remember her birth pack, and was very fortunate to be adopted into Deor by its first Drappa and Dragga - but she eventually lost them as well.
Dakota's wise words put a new smile on her face and she nods in total agreement. "It is wonderful to hear such hopeful thoughts of the future." She smiles again and looks fondly at her nephew. "That is true, Raido. I will always be here for you and do everything I can to make you happy. To show you what Deor has done for me, and what I hope it will be for you." Raido is a cub now - as he should have been when he met her. His comfortable curiosity with the older mann puts hope and joy into Mist's heart and she looks at them with her eyes dancing.
As Silve begins her story Mist settles herself down, figuring it is alright to stop for this special occasion. Though the sky is getting darker by the minute as Fenris says farewell to his lands for the night, it is still light enough, and the beautiful warm light from the west bathes the land in soft orange light. Smiling in encouragement at the silvery fae Mist watches and listens quietly, her ebon-tipped tail swishing softly behind her, stirring up flower petals from small daisies on the ground.
Tilting her head as the story begins she cannot help but be fascinated by the telling. There is no need for Silve to have been in the least self-conscious. The lovely fae tells the tale with as much skill and ease as Mist has ever heard a story told. It is a sad story - one that the grey Drappa has never heard before and her golden eyes easily show her feelings. What a terrible thing for a mother to want to kill her own cubs - for any reason at all. It is however, not a normal story about normal vargs. But still, she wonders in something like disbelief if any of it is true - and if so, how it is possible.
Though many stories like this are myth or legend - but the ashy fae has always heard, and at least in some ways, thought, that legend is often based on fact. As Silve pauses and looks around at her audience seeming to see if they want her to continue Mist smiles. "Go on, darling! You can't begin a tale with such talent, and not finish! I am very impressed, though the story wrenches at my heart... but indeed, you've never told me you were such a natural story-teller." ((OOC: Surprise! Yay for wireless internet in hotels.))
|
|
|
Post by Dakota Spirit on Jun 2, 2008 21:54:04 GMT -5
[Sorry for the wait guys, I got kinda hung up Regular posting should resume now, I hope.]
The dark male shifted his body slightly under the gaze of the Deorian Drappa. She was shaking her head at him, wiping away yet another apology that had fallen from his lips. It was then, not for the first time, that he felt as if he were a small cub before the pack mother. Her soft words sent his eyes flicking to the soft earth in quite shame as Dakota wondered how long it would take him to break such habits. How long until he quite trying to make right things that had never been broken to begin with. A product of his early trials, the male reasoned quietly. Another scar not quite healed. Yet he didn't have long to lament such thoughts, as Silve turned to the group ready, her story already weaving softly into the darkening sky.
Dak listened intently, his dark ears pricked toward the fae in an effort to catch her every word. His handsome face, at first curious and alert quickly began to take on a hard edge as Silve continued, putting together the image of a beautiful fae intent of destroying her young. Involuntarily, the males emerald eyes turned to the small cub at his feet. Hot anger blazed within him as the words continued, detailing the mythical fae's attempts at murder, each new method worse then the last. For a moment, Dak turned his head from the group. The angle in which he sat only allowed his healing neck to turn so far and with Raido pressed against him, the tall male was hesitant to move further. Instead he contented himself with what he had and closed his eyes briefly, lost in private thought. The male sat silently then, struggling to pull his emotions back into the control of his mind while simultaneously stilling the deep protests that rose from his throat. When Dak's eyes opened once more, his face had regained it's stoic if not cold composure. Broad features expressionless, almost passionless as they looked on. Instinctively, he seemed to angle toward Mist, remembering the comfort she'd offered him earlier this night. At the same time, the male's body shifted again, looming protectively over the young life beside him. All the while, Silve had continued her telling, filling the empty air with her full voice.
When she'd finished, Dak watched the reactions of the others before turning his own maw up in a slight smile, wanting to fit in best he could. When he spoke, though warmth surrounded his compliments for the fae, Dakota's deep voice was halting and choked, still effected by the raw emotions within him. Intriguing tale, my lady.", he whispered quietly, lapsing back into his customary mannerisms. Certainly not one I've heard before...I'm sure I'd remember it if I had. None the less, you tell it well. Perhaps the gift is in you, to weave dreams into dazzling stories others would only wish to tell." With no words to continue, Dakota only nodded his head slightly at Mist's request to continue. "Yes...", he echoed in a low whisper. "Tell us the fate for Volundir, the strong one. Tell us what his mother did next...." He laid his ears flat now, no longer wishing to hear each detail in clarity. Instead the male continued to brood quietly with himself, wondering how any fae could be named beautiful and yet hold such cold cruelty within her depths.
[Not my best, sorry! I ran outta things to say]
|
|
Silve
Sikla
Scout of Deor
Praise for Father Sun, and Sister Moon.
Posts: 193
|
Post by Silve on Jun 25, 2008 10:56:29 GMT -5
((I'm really sorry for the very long delay. I was waiting to see if Raido would post.))
The somewhat solemn feeling that was in the air as the two older Varg tried to comfort and help the little pup, though not unpleasant, was begining to work its way into the scout's thoughts. For the moment she herself was consumed with memories, mostly the vague ones of playing with her brother, or listening to her father tell her many stories of the past. Some came to her of the time she spent alone in the hills near Koran, of the little cave where she had slept out of the rain, and of the full moons when she would howl to Tor, begging for a friend. After that the thoughts were more pleasant though, for it was on one of those full moons that she had met a very special friend.
Silve lowered her head slightly, and it would seem to human eyes that she might have been blushing. She was not quite used to so much attention. In response to Mist's words that she was a good storyteller Silve shrugged. "My brother was never as interested in that art, and my father wanted to pass it down to the next generation. I never dreamed that I would remember his lessons so well." To her surprise her companions asked for her to continue the story, and she was more than happy to do just that. This was, after all, one of her favorite stories. All traces of the shyness left her as she began once more.
"Now let me see," she murmured, trying to remember precisely how the next part went. "The season's changed, and the little black pup grew. It seemed that the bigger the pup grew, the more that Meladonia loved him, and began to ignore her rightful mate to spend more time with Volundir. In time her mate became resentful, and he cursed Tor and Fenris both, for taking his dearest love away. He left late one night, deciding life as a Kerl would be favorable to life with Meladonia and her son. As he grew, Volundir began to show in many ways that he was the son of a great god, but Meladonia still hated that part. She did not tell Volundir that his father was a god. Within his first year, Volundir hunted better than any other Varg, was stronger than all others, and surpassed even Transylvania's swiftest scouts in speed and endurance. Others his age began to hate him in their minds, and so joined the pack of Meladonia's mate, and Meladonia's own pack became the target for many unprovoked attacks."
Silve watched carefully for the reactions of her friends while she told the tale, remembering that her father had told her that the greatest joy in telling a story is in watching how the audience take the different turns in the tale. "Volundir himself was praised as the greatest protector of the pack in these times, and every member of his pack wondered if he would rise to take the place of their Dragga. But Volundir was quite humble, and did not seem interested in leading the pack. The black mann was content to fight for the pack when needed, and spend the rest of his days with his mother. It was on one of these days that Volundir had wanted to show his mother a rose bush he had come across in a clump of ferns, that their enemies attacked again. This time his own pack was too far away and Volundir could not fight so many all at once. The point of the attack was to rid the world of Volundir, for her former mate loved Meladonia very much still and thought that the loss of her son would cause her to love him again. A young and bold young mann, however, did not listen so closely to the rules. He gravely wounded the beautiful fae, and paid with his life, but Meladonia's former mate saw her fall and lost heart and abandoned his pack to their fate. Six wolves met their end in Volundir's fangs by the time his vengence was spent, and the poor lost young wolf crawled to his mother's side.
" 'Oh, Mother,' he cried, 'look at how I have failed you!' But Meladonia was still living, if only barely, and she told her son how much she loved him, and admitted to the crimes she had commited in killing his syblings, and last of all told him of his heritage. 'Hold tight to what I have taught you, and do not let your real father control you,' were the last words she spoke. From that moment, Volundir swore to do mighty deeds in his mother's memory. To make her spirit proud as it travelled the Wolf Trail by doing what the other wolves deemed impossible.
"Volundir stood by his mother's body for seven suns, and it was there he stood when Tor looked down from the heavens and saw his devotion to his mother. And so the greatest mother of all came to Volundir and spoke thus:
'Always I have watched you, son of Fenris, and always I have admired how you faithfully take care of your mother in ways no other son would. And so I give you two blessings. First I give you the knowledge that your mother will always hold a special place in my forests in the heavens, and will ever be respected and loved. And second, I give you the power of knowledge of past and future, and understanding of all things that live and breath.' The great wolf goddess stretched her muzzle all the way down from the heavens and placed it at the young black Varg's chest, and then she vanished. Where her muzzle had touched him the fur was bleached forever white, and he was given the power of the Sight. Tor would come to him many times again, throughout his entire life, to assist him in his struggles to do good and to understand. But those are stories for another time, for this is simply the story of how a son of Fenris became the second wolf ever to have the sight."
((Sorry, the story didn't quite go how I wanted, but I hope it isn't too bad.))
|
|
|
Post by Mist on Jul 12, 2008 22:32:46 GMT -5
Smiling as Silve modestly says she never would have thought she would do such a professional job in her tale-telling, Mist nods, reaffirming her opinion of her friend's talent. For the most part during the rest of the story Mist keeps her eyes on Silve, watching the emotions flash across the silver scout's face as she speaks, her voice rising and falling during the sorrowful and more triumphant parts of the story. From time to time, however the grey Drappa's eyes move to look at Dak or Raido, to see their reactions and responses to Silve's tale. She looks at Raido, pressed against Dak's legs and smiles slightly despite the sadness of the story. She thinks suddenly what a good father he would be, and if he will ever get the chance to have cubs of his own.
This train of thought turns softly to a similar subject - Chayton, and that she has not seen him in too long than she would ever like. His absence is like a slowly-healing wound. An ache that can never really be forgotten, but that is something the victim is starting to learn to live with. Taking a deep, but silent breath she lowers her head as she thinks of all the times she would have scoffed at the idea of him ever being parted from her. She and Chayton were so close - almost from the very beginning; and now she is left with only memories and hopes of a good future, with more memories yet to come.
As a rising of Silve's voice breaks into her thoughts Mist raises her eyes back up to the face of the speaker. It is just in time to hear of Meladonia's death and Volundir's love for her - and of Tor's admiration of such devotion. It is not that Mist didn't hear the rest of the story, but just that it was more distant, that her thoughts and part of her attention were elsewhere. As she hears the end of the tragic but beautiful story Mist lets out a breath, feeling finally tired at the end of this day - perhaps the emotion of such a tale awoke her to this fact.
She feels weary, and as the light from Fenris's face falls on her as he sails toward the western horizon she wonders if Silve's tale is true. There are some things she firmly believes in - Tor and Fenris, for example. It has always comforted her to think of wise, good, powerful beings looking down on their children and guiding them. She does not remember her true parents or siblings - if she had them - and when she was younger and used to wonder about them, she was comforted by the thought that, assuming they are dead, they are with the great gods. The fact that she could look up in the sky at night and see Tor - and her family could see them in the afterlife - well, she has always liked that thought.
"Silve," She says softly, smiling gently at her dear friend. "Thank you for sharing this tale with us. At this time I have no words to describe my feelings, but I do wish to thank you. I have never heard this story, and have never grown tired of hearing such tales." Padding softly forward she nuzzles the silver fae and smiles when she steps back.
((Eh, so sorry for the terrible wait - I didn't know everyone was waiting for me until Dak told me (thanks again Dak!) Also, sorry that there's so little to go on in this post...))
|
|
-Raido-
Cub
See the lightning in your eyes
Posts: 35
|
Post by -Raido- on Jul 13, 2008 12:43:03 GMT -5
The smaller mann simply listened to the story impassively. The tale seemed strangely familiar, as if he had heard it once, long ago, before his eyes had opened. As things stood now, he couldn't seem to remember how this story had gotten started. As he felt the mammoth onyx beast next to him move, he felt a note of pain from him. It sounded odd, but he sometimes got...well, instincts. Feelings of what another was feeling; a strange form of empathy, he supposed. He watched him carefully, seeing him close his eyes. When he did, the male gently lay his rusty head upon Dak's paw, licking at it softly, the only comfort he could offer.
As the story finished, he echoed the praise of the other's in his own, younger way. "It was awesome. You certainly did a wonderful job of telling the tale, Lady Silve. " That was the truth as he saw it; she had quite a knack for it, nearly as much as he did for singing songs he could scarcely remember from whence they came. Quietly, he tapped a paw, humming and singing softly as he waited.
"Revolutionaries Wait For my head on a silver plate Just a puppet on a lonely string Oh who would ever want to be king?"
|
|
|
Post by Mist on Jul 25, 2008 21:35:47 GMT -5
((Closed due to inactivity and time being out of place.))
|
|