Dead Trees, Dead Souls [Closed]
Sept 24, 2018 14:43:01 GMT -5
Post by Meds on Sept 24, 2018 14:43:01 GMT -5
Boomer
DeSoto;
The marked male of Geist padded through the dry trees of the Barren Wastes. His fur was almost black, as were his eyes—as was his heart. DeSoto had opened up, just once, but that had proven to leave him even more of a shattered mess than he had been before. It was anger now, mostly, that rolled over him in waves. He had always been used to anger, but now it was a much more powerful thing, as it was mingled with sadness, resentment, and embarrassment, too.
The high summer sun lit up the only part of his fur that wasn't such a dark blue—the white power mark on his chest. He felt the pull of his Siren in the back of his throat, and gave in. He lifted his head as he passed through the dead, lifeless trees, and allowed the deafening howl to escape his lips. Every single creature in the valley would hear that call, even to the farthest corners of it, or to the heights of the White Wolf Mountain. It was a cry mingled with all the emotions DeSoto was feeling, as well as the ones he had never come to understand.
He snarled to himself, a rare sound from the usually-level headed male. Was this it? Was this all that was left for him? Nanouk was long-gone. He held no hope of ever seeing her again; and in fact, he hoped he didn't. What sort of animal connected with another like that and then disappeared? Not once, but twice?
DeSoto's thoughts traveled to the small pack that Nanouk had mentioned, Ivory Wild. That was when the problems had started. He had half a mind to go there right then and skin the Alphess for all the trouble she had caused him. He could hoist up her hide for all to see—a testament to what DeSoto did to those who wronged him.
Alas, but no. He would not do that. He cursed himself under his breath, allowing another shorter howl (though just as loud) to roll out of his mouth. He felt like he was in mourning for something that had never even been real. It was a dark day for the Beta of Frigid Plague. He had achieved his life-goal... but the Alphess of his pack was, dare he say it, just as useless as ever. She was absent, which left him without a leader.
He was without a leader, without a lover, and without a plan.
Was there anything left for him here?
He padded in circles through the dry surroundings, with similar thoughts pouring through his mind, until he finally came to a slight clearing in the dead trees and sat—defeated, alone, and hopeless.
DeSoto;
The marked male of Geist padded through the dry trees of the Barren Wastes. His fur was almost black, as were his eyes—as was his heart. DeSoto had opened up, just once, but that had proven to leave him even more of a shattered mess than he had been before. It was anger now, mostly, that rolled over him in waves. He had always been used to anger, but now it was a much more powerful thing, as it was mingled with sadness, resentment, and embarrassment, too.
The high summer sun lit up the only part of his fur that wasn't such a dark blue—the white power mark on his chest. He felt the pull of his Siren in the back of his throat, and gave in. He lifted his head as he passed through the dead, lifeless trees, and allowed the deafening howl to escape his lips. Every single creature in the valley would hear that call, even to the farthest corners of it, or to the heights of the White Wolf Mountain. It was a cry mingled with all the emotions DeSoto was feeling, as well as the ones he had never come to understand.
He snarled to himself, a rare sound from the usually-level headed male. Was this it? Was this all that was left for him? Nanouk was long-gone. He held no hope of ever seeing her again; and in fact, he hoped he didn't. What sort of animal connected with another like that and then disappeared? Not once, but twice?
DeSoto's thoughts traveled to the small pack that Nanouk had mentioned, Ivory Wild. That was when the problems had started. He had half a mind to go there right then and skin the Alphess for all the trouble she had caused him. He could hoist up her hide for all to see—a testament to what DeSoto did to those who wronged him.
Alas, but no. He would not do that. He cursed himself under his breath, allowing another shorter howl (though just as loud) to roll out of his mouth. He felt like he was in mourning for something that had never even been real. It was a dark day for the Beta of Frigid Plague. He had achieved his life-goal... but the Alphess of his pack was, dare he say it, just as useless as ever. She was absent, which left him without a leader.
He was without a leader, without a lover, and without a plan.
Was there anything left for him here?
He padded in circles through the dry surroundings, with similar thoughts pouring through his mind, until he finally came to a slight clearing in the dead trees and sat—defeated, alone, and hopeless.
