Catabasis [Open]

[Pride]

    Arcturus tilted his head back, taking in the many sounds and smells of the forest. The air was rich and heady with the scent of pollen, so strong that he could taste it on the tip of his tongue. The vitality of this land never failed to fascinate him— it was so different from his homeland to the south, which remained desolate even in the zenith of Spring. What, he had once wondered, could be so different about this place that life grew here in such unabated abundance? Of course, now he had his answer, for in the western mountains lie a strange and otherworldly magic the likes of which he had never encountered.

    Even a week after learning of its existence, his mind still ran ceaselessly over the possibilities. Meticulously picking apart what little vague information he had managed to glean from his pack mates in his search for possible answers. Surely, some titanic force of nature must be at work here? This place was too well controlled to be a mere aberration, therefore the only option left was that it was designed and maintained by something else. But exactly what, and why? He wouldn't accept some vague, nebulous 'magic' as an answer; it simply was not good enough. There were more subtle nuances to be analyzed, more patterns to be discovered. He cared nothing for power, nor ambition— logically they were hollow goals that he could do without, but he would have answers. 

    'I will find the true wellspring of power within the mountain,' Arcturus vowed silently to himself. 

    He possessed no deep craving to have any of it for himself, for he did not care, but he needed to know it regardless. To understand the truth of its existence. Was it sentient? What were its ulterior motives for creating the lesser entities which cared for the wolves of this realm? They were questions that no one here seemed interested in delving too deeply into, either out of disinterest or fear. To most of them information was just a way of attaining power or happiness, but none of them seemed to see the value of information in and of itself. In reality, knowledge was not just a way of gaining power— it was power. Life thrived on a series of equations, reactions, and interactions; a perpetual cycle. The one who could know them is the one who could know the secrets of life itself. What were personal desires for rank or influence in comparison to that? Nothing. The desires of an individual, confined to a finite space within an infinite cycle. 

    He pulled himself from his thoughts before slipping between the trees— quick and silent as fog. The blue runes etched upon his sides shimmered like stars in the night sky, the only visible part of Arcturus in the shadows. Upon the distant horizon, he could just make out the silhouettes of the mountain range, jagged teeth set upon the jaws of the earth. He would find the logical explanation behind the power here if he had to cut down through the earth, even if it took a thousand lives and a thousand years. He would find the truth. 

[Deleted]

Heimdall excitedly bounced back from White Magic's den. She was so pretty! And Mother was pretty too, but White Magic was better because she smelt of herbs and she was nice to him and she gave him something that tasted nice. But then his eyes had started to hurt and Heimdall had felt a burning sensation coming over them like fire licking the insides of them. Afterwards, he could see but it was blurry and while his eyes weren't all super and magical, they still let him see!

On the road back to Frigid Plague's territory, he ran all the way, taking in the sights and sounds and smells all around him. He chased a butterfly, snapping at it with small pup's jaws, giggling when it swept past his nose trying to avoid his grabby paws. Then a bird pooped on him. Ew. Heimdall didn't like bird poop 'cos it smelt bad and it was stinky and Mother always said it was a hassle to wash off. And then she told him to jump in puddles so that he could get the remainder off which was fun but he always ended up getting cold because of it.

When he reached, he saw a fuzzy shape running towards him almost about to whack him on the head so Heimdall jumped straight out of it's path, seeing a wolf run past straight him. Woah! He could play catch the wolf! So, excited to test out his new eyesight, Heimdall powered after the bigger wolf, nearly tripping over vines and roots in the process, but that was okay! 'Cos he was getting to run without always falling down and being teased by the other pups so he was fine with it! And when he leaped, he latched onto the big wolf's furry tail and clamped his jaws shut on it. His puppy teeth didn't even break the skin and Heimdall nibbled slightly on it so the bg wolf could notice him and join in on the game.

Maybe he could catch Heimdall!

"I caught you! It's your turn to be the catcher now!" Heimdall said through a mouthful of fur and with a gleam in his eyes.

[Pride]

Arcturus heard something blundering after him in the forest, his ears twitching back in mild curiosity. However, before he could catch sight of it, whatever it was latched itself onto his tail like a burr. The sting caught him off guard and his lip twitched, jerking his head around to stare at the offending object. To his vexation it was a young pup, hardly the type of thing he had expected in the forest so late at night. To him it seemed small and fragile, and yet there was no mistaking that its scent was Frigid Plague. What was a pup doing out here alone? Pack territory or not, he didn't think that a pup would be allowed outside of its mother's den at an hour like this.

He thought of berating it, though this idea was quickly pushed aside as an idea sparked in Arcturus's mind. This pup had likely been raised hearing stories of the mountain and what these wolves thought of as its "magic." The pup would likely not be able to gauge an ulterior motive behind any questions at this age, which made this a prime opportunity. Slowly, he twisted back, the blue runes along his side flowing with the movement. He fixed the young pup with an unfathomable pale gaze, taking in the minute details of his face, and spoke.

"But what are games without incentives, youth?" The tenor of his voice was deceptively soft. "I will propose terms: if I catch you, you tell me the story of White Magic and the mountain, and if I do not, I will carry you where ever you would like to go— within reason, that is."

Arcturus worked his tail to free it of the pup's grip, turning and crouching down that he could be level with him. Under most circumstances he did not play games to amuse the progeny of his pack mates, but if the pup agreed to his terms, then the reward would have been well worth it. He was not entirely sure if the adults of the pack had any reason to hide information or not, but whatever the case, a pup such as this would have been more loose-tongued than the older members of Frigid Plague. And, though whatever he could likely gain from him would be limited, it was still better than what he had to go off of so far.

A niggling thought wormed its way into Arcturus's mind, forcing his attention. He realized that he had never asked the pups identity, as was so customary among meetings of his own kind. What a pointless social gesture— names hardly mattered; it was not as if knowing them or not changed the wolf in front of you. Still, he may as well follow the ritual if he intended to set his calculations into motion. Otherwise, he may as well be leading himself into a dead end, and his curiosity would remain unsatisfied.

"My name is Arcturus," he added, as if it were an afterthought. "What, may I ask, is yours?"

[Deleted]

"I'm Heimdall! If i catch you, will you really carry me? Cool! One, two, threego!" Heimdall shrieked and dashed off through the leaves and the plants and the roots, occasionally tripping but knowing he had sight on his hand this time. He could run, he could scent for the wolf who was playing with him and he had acute hearing. Being blind had taught him how to practise the other senses so he wasn't so badly affected. Twisting and turning, he crashed over branches and leaves, leaving a very stomped over trail in his wake. While he was sure that the big wolf called Arcturus could find him easily, he could be faster and dash away from him. Then he could be carried around properly and not be picked up by his scruff like Mother always did which was uncomfortable sometimes.

The pup rounded trees, attempting to climb up one once. He slid down the bark, noticed the big wolf was catching up and ran away again, his fluffy tail waving behind him like a brown flag. Bright eyes stared straight ahead, carrying a laugh and a gleam in them as Heimdall leapt and spun, enjoying the chase and the wind blowing in his face. Light were his paws, carrying him over hole and bump. Heimdall was having so much fun! but then disaster struck.

He crashed into a tree, fell and rubbed his nose with his paw. It hurt a lot and he sat there morosely, staring at the tree before perking up and running in the opposite direction, past Arcturus who was streaking through the trees like he did and ducked underneath him so he could run through the space that was below Arcturus and hope that he wouldn't be caught and maybe Arcturus would fall down!

That would be super funny, Heimdall thought and stuck out his tongue. "Can't catch me!" He barked and continued running, before growing tired and sitting down for a little bit.

[Pride]

The little pup thundered away, and Arcturus didn't hesitate to tear after him. He cut like a scythe through the forest, quick and unforgiving at his highest speeds. He found to his chagrin that Heimdall was by far the more agile of them, but Arcturus had a longer gait on his side that worked to make up for the difference. His legs covered more ground, and with just two steps he could move the distance that the pup had in seven. Still, the chase was not an easy one as the small figure in front of him darted in between trees and undergrowth, occasionally becoming frantically entangled in roots as it went. With each blunder Arcturus drew closer and closer, and he could just make out the flash of realization that lit the pup's features as he realized that his pursuer was rapidly closing in on him.

In what Arcturus assumed was a spurt of desperation, the pup tried to scramble his way up a tree, but seemed to quickly realize his error when his tiny claws failed to find purchase on the tree's rough bark. He sped out from around the trunk, trying to recover from his mistake by increasing his speed and rapidly outpacing Arcturus. A flash of adrenaline flooded through Arcturus's veins at the thought of his answers slipping away from him, and he bared his teeth to the night air as he strained to pushed himself to even faster speeds. With a sickening smack the pup rammed into a tree, likely going too fast to change directions in time. For a moment Arcturus thought that the chase might finally be over, but just as he was about to overtake the pup, he stood up and ran out from under him.

'Tenacious creature. You will be an adequate hunter one day,' he observed quietly, pressing hard into a turn.

The suddenness of the change did not phase Arcturus, who had been watching the pups tail in order to predict his changes in direction. Its movement betrayed him at the last minute, and Arcturus was able to brace for the turn before the pup made it. And, twisting his tail to the left to decrease torque, he too altered his course. He could see the pup losing energy as he ran, his reflexes progressively becoming slower and slower. Heimdall may have been fast, but he had never been in situations which has caused him to build up any endurance. By this rate, Arcturus's stamina could likely outlast the pup's for several miles at the very least.

In some ways, chasing the pup reminded him of hunting a rabbit. The strategy for that, as well, was strikingly similar. Rabbits were infinitely faster than wolves, but when they had nowhere to hide, they would grow tired. It never failed to lead to their end, just as it wouldn't in this situation. As Heimdall slowed, Arcturus maintained his speed, quickly overshadowing the youth as he skidded to an abrupt halt. The pup sat down, panting with his exertions by the time Arcturus caught up to him. The lean black wolf dropped into a crouch once more, touching his nose to the young wolf's scruff.

"I win."

[Deleted]

Heimdall pouted. He'd been caught so easily that it was almost disappointing, but the game had been fun, so he would go along with Arcturus's plan anyways. His face brightened again and his tongue lolled out in a lopsided grin. "Alright! You win, mister, what do you want to hear?" The young pup asked with a light tone. He knew all about the mountain and the power and especially about White Magic since she had healed him of his blindness which was frankly irritating, but he didn't mind anymore. He could see! Heimdall shivered a little, batting at Arcturus's cold nose. His scruff fluff floofed up in a pathetic attempt to ward off the freezing tip, failing, which made him look like a battered rabbit.

Heimdall fluffed up the rest of his fur, rolling down a slope before he once again sat up and smoothed his small paws over his coat. He blinked once, twice, grinning loopily and stuck his tongue out again. Then he opened his jaws to speak, embarrassed at the small squeak that escaped when a fly flew up his nose and he sneezed it out, hacking a little when it flew back down his throat. Sheepish milky eyes glared at the offending piece of dirt the fly had landed on before his fuzzy vision shifted back up to Arcturus.

"I could start with White Magic or the Power since the power was the first thing to come into existence and from it was born the White Wolves or I could start with White Magic since she's nice and smells like herbs." He rambled slightly before the guilty look took over his face again and he dipped his head. Slowly, Heimdall stared up at Arcturus with a tilted head before he apologised for adding the last part of his small speech. Maybe he'd want to hear about his adventures?

[Pride]

Arcturus sat up, wrapping his tail neatly around his paws in a bizarrely cat-like gesture. In truth, there was more that he would have liked to hear than the young pup could probably ever tell him. He wasn’t sure of the exact nature of how these wolves passed stories on to succeeding generations, but he was willing to put his stakes on it being in the form of a fairytale. No matter. He had a gift for untangling fact from fiction, even in the most chimerical myths. All that he needed to do was find the correct questions to ask.

Like a spider upon a web he picked over the possibilities, gently stringing together the questions that might lead him down the path that he desired. It was foolish to go through social interactions of any kind— with pups or otherwise— without any forethought. Each word could be planed, each vocal influx used to either push someone away or draw them closer. For years he had listened to others, learning even the most subtle patterns of speech. The ability had served him well so far, and he was quick to discover that a lie can be discerned from the truth from the slightest quaver. Using his knowledge as a blade he began to redesign himself, assimilating his own patterns of behavior to produce the desired result.

He inclined his head to study Heimdall, narrowing all of his intense focus. Disappointed at his loss of the game, yes. Idealistic, curious, bright— all the traits of youth that would no doubt be crushed from him as he grew. If not from his pack and his mentors, then from the course of life itself. Life in Frigid Plague was relatively easy as far as personal survival, but someone with a strong moral code would grow to despise the darkness that was so intrinsic to its existence from the moment they gained the cognitive facilities to grasp it. It was only a matter of time before this pup would be cut and carved by the life he was fated for; a bloody, painful process, but a necessary and perhaps inevitable one. For what chance did innocence stand in this world? Soft skin, to be pricked by sharp words and sharper claws. No. The ribbon of time was painted red with the blood of the innocent, because it was as natural to them to be prey as it was for the corrupt to be predators.

‘Pray that this world changes you.’

He pricked his ears when he caught the word ‘herbs’ in the pups excited rambling. If they were using herbs for their magic, then there was a chance that they could not function without them. Perhaps the magic simply gave them the knowledge of how to mix poultices in ways that the rest of them did not know. Was there a link there? Were they dependent on the herbs to form a world as elaborate as this one? If so, could these abilities be mimicked? Surely not, someone would have been observant enough to do so long ago if that were true. This valley was too full of narcissist for one of them not to snap up a chance at power when it was offered.

“Start from the beginning,” he coaxed gently. “Tell me of this White Magic and her herbs.”

[Deleted]

"White Magic was born from the Power in the Mountain. It gave her the power to heal! But she's really good with herbs, too." Heimdall started, voice going as deep as he could get it to go. He paused, scratching his chin like he had seen the older wolves do when they were telling stories. He had heard the legend passed down by the oldest wolf in the pack, so it had to be true. "She healed my eyes, but they're fuzzy. Then she had a litter and called them Geist, Sheba and Taboo. Taboo, I think, is the nice one. Mother doesn't like her. Then Sheba is the neutral one who is also probably nice. Geist is the evil one and she's the cruellest. She wants to see the valley in darkness!"

Heimdall gasped, voice taking on the high effect that the storytellers used for dramatic reasons, which he was sure could be justified in this case. After all, who didn't like hearing about the tremendous deeds of the White Wolves? They were so amazing, especially White Magic because she was nice! But Mother didn't seem to like her much, though. Heimdall wondered why. Maybe they'd gotten into a fight or something so White Magic and Mother were mean to each other.

"The Three give out powers! There're different ones for each season. Psychological and Water for Winter, Physical and Earth in Spring, which is now, Offense and Fire in Summer and Defense and Air in Autumn!" The young pup paused, a large grin evident on his face as he internally praised himself for remembering all the powers. Then there were six for each season but Heimdall only remembered Flame and Teleportation and Soil, especially Soil which Alphess Peryuri had. Alphess Peryuri was very powerful with her soil power. It was level three!

He smiled sagely, then leant forward to sniff Arcturus whom he had decided to call Arcty because it sounded funny. Arcty's scent was a smokey one, and when Heimdall opened his mouth, he thought he could taste ashes and fiery things in the air, so strong was the smell of flame emanating from Arcturus's body. Heimdall stuck his tongue out a bit, shifting back. "I think you should get Flame or Soil. Soil is available now, I think, and Flame next season. You smell like ash and fire so I think Flame would best suit you. But you gotta be careful, Geist is mean! You could die! She doesn't like puny mortals coming to her cave and yabbering on for powers. I heard her say that." Heimdall said very seriously, hugging Arcturus a little.

"But I think you wanted to hear about White Magic's herbs. She grows them, I saw them when she gave me the potion to let me see. Sometimes, I think the potions hurt when they're fixing you. I think that was a magic potion as well because herbs can't heal stuff like that. Not blindness." The next part of Heimdall's speech, at the end took on a tone of sadness. He didn't like to talk about when he was blind 'cos it hurt him to do so but if Arcturus wanted to know then he would tell him.

"Arcturus if I tell you the answers to your questions, will you be my first friend?"

[Pride]

Arcturus tilted his head slightly to the side as he listened, the only visible sign of his interest.
So, White Magic's powers supposedly worked in tandem with her herbs, but where was the evidence that these supposed powers were not completely caused by them? He doubted that these wolves would even know the difference, considering none of them had never dared to question the entities that they saw as their guardians. She had progeny as well, it seemed, except these names were familiar to him. He had overheard a conversation in which a wolf had been babbling about going to and ask for powers from the one called Geist, which was evidently the only true option for those who were members of Frigid Plague. he wondered, why utilize such straight-edged definitions of good and evil to align the packs? Anyone who had ever even seen the world surely knew that they did not exist; it was a foolhardy effort to attempt to categorize everyone one met by one's own moral codes. Yet, the wolves within the immediate proximity of the Mountain blindly insisted upon this. The world was too fluid and dynamic to try and tame it with such simple rules— there was no logic in it. Then again, there usually wasn't logic in anything these wolves seemed to do. Revenge, personal ambition, arrogance— all of them painfully naive goals to have in life. The collective always mattered over the individual, and those who failed to see this clearly knew nothing of how the world worked.

He returned his attention to the pup, taking in the wonder so obviously written upon his face. Of course, this must seem some epic adventure to him. Youth always seemed to adhere so ferociously to fantasy; dreamily attracted to the breadth of it all, no doubt. Arcturus had never understood the allure, even as a pup. he had been too focused on watching those around him to stand by idly and listen to stories with his peers. he did not mind this pup, however. He had proven incredibly useful, and anyone who could be useful to another was pleasing enough to him. So he stayed and soaked in all of the information that was given. Of the different powers and the seasons that they were given in, of Heimdall's former blindness and his miraculous recovery, and of Heimdall's assessment of what power he should chase.

'Flame,' Arcturus considered the word thoroughly, 'what an amusing choice. Flame is arguably reckless destruction incarnate, and I its opposite.' He could not think of a combination so ill-fitting, and this Geist entity would likely share his views. In truth, he saw no use for power if it was so viciously imprecise. He did not even know yet whether or not he would pursue one of these 'powers" at all. If anything drew him up to the mountain, it would be curiosity.

So, the pup did not think herbs could rehabilitate blindness. Perhaps he was right, but if there truly was some sort of strange anomaly here that endowed the local population of wolves with abilities, then surely there must have been some sort of a logical explanation for it. Still, he stored this information away for later use, deciding that it was best not to try and comprehend other possibilities now. Instead, another question sharply drew his attention from straying off into another tangent.

"...will you be my first friend?"

He lingered over the question, trying to analyze its connotation fully. Friends? Why would this young pup seek to be friends with someone like him? It had always been such a useless title to have, for friends could come close to only to betray. Allies were surely a more rational option than friends, or at the very least wiser. Nevertheless, he considered this offer closely.

"Yes, Heimdall." He spoke the pup's name for the first time, but his accent made it sound strange and foreign on his tongue. "I can be your friend, if you would like." He found this answer to be satisfactory for the moment. It would at least allow him to understand the bizarre interpersonal relationships that so many of these wolves were fond of forming. Deciding to act to further seal this new dynamic, he spoke once more. "No doubt you have a home with your mother, would you like me to take you back?"

[Deleted]

"Yes! I have a friend!" Heimdall cheered, tail waving happily behind him. He stared at Arcturus and leaped onto his back - well, tried to and scrabbled on by grabbing at the tufts of fur. That was when he truly noticed the blue, blurry and squiggly lines on Arcy's sides. He tentatively reached out a paw to touch them before drawing back and flattening himself to Arcturus. "Mother's in the den area, let's go!" Heimdall yelped with a small grin on his tiny face before leaping off and attempting to fly. His front legs buckled as he landed, face smashing into the soft dirt, but he didn't mind. Heimdall jumped up and scrambled away with the same speed that he'd had when they were playing the fun, fun game.

"...me if you caaaaan!" would be the last thing Arcturus would hear from this young child that day, maybe more.

-exit Heimdude-