-E-xtra x.Crispy.x ((Iver/Nightshade))

[Sivoncé™]

Nightshade did not remove her eyes from his form as he said these words, these concrete fashionings of a mouth's movement that draggede her down like lead weights. But she dipped her head, accepting, though tears still lined her curiously lavendar eyes.
"I know there is beauty in the world. I know there is a place for us somewhere...."

She swallowed, revelations, melodies, old memories stirring and swimming through the pools and rivers of her mind, whole systems of tributaries spurring off and trickling away into a hundred and one directions. "There is so much grace in the act of simply being, simply being and that is all. For just to be cannot just be that alone;; if one is just there, just tangible, then they are indeed entangled in the greatest, most epic battle that could ever be conjured. They battle daily with Satan to ward back a death they themselves come to long for because no one really wants that, Iver. When you are such a mighty warrior that nothing exists for you and you ward off the void of nothingness ever single moment of breathing.....your shoulders cripple sooner than they are supposed to. No one wants to be a warrior. We call ourselves fallen, but there is no sort of falling except for from grace. The grace of being a mighty warrior that no one on this earth, no not even you or I could comprehend. It is not to just be we seek to do. It is to be and be content. You can go through your routine, Iver, you can smell your rose, but the thorns will always be there. You're the thorn in my side as well as the water to my cracked throat. I don't know how else to explain it. But there is a place for us in this world."

[Destiny]

"Sweetly slipping down my throat like the fresh, delicious, tempting taste of icy mountain water after one has gone for days without anything at all. That is life after one has died, in the sense, but are still alive." The hues of blue-silver in pelt stood out when the light caught them. "Yet still, we drink the murky, stale, disgusting liquid that has been still for weeks in the filthy puddle near the place wolves do their dirt if we must. And it tastes the same. Why?" Was that a rhetorical question? Or, was it an actual question? Nightshade would have to be the judge of this, for certain. "The mighty warrior rises to stand on the outcropping above the bodies of the fallen, but falls himself when the Ancestors shove him away for the deeds that were committed in order to be one of the great. The farther he climbed, the farther he fell, until so far did this great one fall that there was nothingness when the bottom of his pit was struck."

Iver closed his eyes for several long, slow moments. "Why?" Sweet whisper to the wind, last shimmer of sunlight before it disappeared over the horizon revealed a scar that had never really been visible before. This was because, in the way the fur covered it, even in daylight it was hidden. But now that the breeze ruffled his cheeks, the light caught it, if only for a millisecond.

[Sivoncé™]

Nightshade stood, transfixed, as the alpha gave his speech.
Many questions were posed, and though all were privately related, interlinked, entwined, they all had so many different, diverse, varying answers and numerous ones that it seemed impossible to give an actual statement to satify such thirst for response.
But still, an answer stared her down. Perhaps not a true answer, but a key. A key to an aspect of life which, if one were to take it with them, they would not have to stand before the one they both loved and hated saying such words.
"I was young and unknowing, a Silver Mist neophyte, when I first heard the words you search for. I didn't understand nor care for them then, it seems like millenia ago. The she-wolf, a bearer, known as Twilight loved a Black Mist wolf named...Feeno. They bore pups that remained in Silver Mist, as both lovers died for each other in the end. But she said....she said...."
She coughed, voice hoarse, yet still somehow certain.
"She told me that even in the brightest lights, there are the darkest shadows."

(***"even in the brightest lights, there are the darkest shadows" and Twilight are ideas related to former member Yetigirl, but are now general property of WotM due to her resignation. Feeno is Sheera's old char.)

[Destiny]

"Twilight was a wise wolf, then. You can lurk in the shadows all your life, yet still be touched by the light. Wickedest of wolves can be sent to the Realm of Twilight in the end. Yet you can dance in the sunshine, and still end up burning in Hellfire, or even Tartarus. A strange, confusing world we live in." Far above the sky had been painted with many a shade of ebony and dark blue. Twinkling droplets of color on the canvas glimmered in the night sky. Moon already shining strong in the darkness.

"To wonder, is to think. Yet to think, is to wonder. One leads to the other, a never ending cycle of questions without answers, answers without questions. Some go mad trying to make sense of it all. Others do not bother with such things, and pay no heed. And others still, are satisfied with what they want to know, and need to know. They do not thirst for knowledge, as they know that with knowledge comes power, and with power comes corruption." The slightest glimpse of a smile played across his features then. Almost as if the wolf knew exactly what he was talking about. Maybe because he did, had been there, and sometimes wished he wasn't.

"Everyone says that, no matter what, even if they could go back and re-do their life, they'd do everything the same way. When I say everyone, I do not literally mean everyone, I mean the greater portion of the world." Eyes turned back upon her now. Throat was tightening, and the brute was beginning to find it hard to speak. So, for a few moments, he stood and said nothing. Heartbeat raced, and finally, he finished. "I'd never want to change any of it."

[Sivoncé™]

"Nothing. I wouldn't change anything at all."
Nightshade echoed, a new life on her tongue, a new determination, a new fire. But not a fire of venom -- not the venom she'd hissed at the Moonless Meeting. A fire inside, a fire building, rising -- a beacon of hope.
"And so past does not matter any longer. Origin doesn't matter. What matters if future. And I ask you now, Iver, where are you going? You cannot see around the corner when you've yet to walk the woodland passage, so a rephrase must be needed. Present is what we live in, the decisions we make that will impact the future. You can't see around the corner, but isn't there some idea of what must be there? Where do you want to go, Iver? Regardless of past, regardless of fate or destiny because neither will maim us, Iver! Wolves of prophecy, they say they are tied by bonds of fate and destiny and I don't want that! We won't be held down by things like that --- things that determine our entire lifelines without our consent, and its based on past! Past has impact if you let it, but don't! Don't let it bring us down, don't let it tear us apart, I love you!"

She was choking, tears spurring from the corners of her eyes without her permisson, her entire facade crashing in front of her, but she scarcely notices now. She knew she would have to make this choice one day, and she still didn't understand the words tumbling from her mouth. Leave the Siverians? Leave pack life alltogether? The only life she'd ever known---
Past. It is my present now, too, but it might not always be.
"Past.....it influences us, whether we wish it to, or not, but the real question is how deep you let it penetrate the other great forces of your being. I love you, Iver."

[Destiny]

"I don't know where I'm going, Nightshade! All I know is that I'm alive, and that I have duties. Oak made it clear to me that day, when you pushed me away in your anger, that I could not save you from your destiny. I'd throw down all ten of my remaining lives to the heavens if it would save you from whatever life has in store for you. I'd give it all away to hold onto you, so selfishly, hungrily, needfully, greedily for just another night. To bury my nose in your neck fur one more time, and breath in so deeply your delicious and intoxicating perfume! To be yours one more time, to have you as my mate again." There was a thin film of liquid that seeped from eyes into prettily designed coat color around eyes now. The brute launched himself across the charred, fire destroyed ground. The heavy smog of smoke was oozing into this area once again, and it stung his nostrils. "I lo-" Iver didn't get to finish his sentence.

It was such a sudden attack that the alpha went down immediately. The large, ashen bastard snarled with a hunger that leaked into the idea of madness. Scarred, ash covered, fire singed body loomed over the other brute. Blood stained claws slashed at Iver's sides as the alpha snarled and raked own claws across Tread's face. Howling in fury the invader slammed into the other wolf's side, bowling him over. Fangs reached for neck flesh. And they found it. It wouldn't matter how much Iver struggled, because he was just too tired and weak from lack of nourishment and his earlier tormenting of himself. The alpha needed Nightshade.

[Sivoncé™]

"Destiny, destiny, you cannot push me away for the sake of dest-- IVER!" She screamed, near blinded by the cascade of sharp, warm liquid dripping clear from her tear ducts. But inside of that single moment, instinct burned so furiously inside of her that it nearly set her to flames, nearly shot hre into the sky in the likes of firecrackers. She surged forward, claws ripping into the pursuer with a blind, exploding bonfire of rage and hate.
Hate for what was tearing her and her love away, apart.
Hate for anything that would hurt him. Even herself.

Who this wolf was was unknown to her, but she didn't care. For all she could've known, this was Sabela and she was about to murder her own alphess several times over. She could've paused to regard this attacker, but she chose not to. Never a pause would come if it meant this thing came a pawstep closer to Iver.

She herself was drenched in blood. Her own blood, the blood of her enemy. The silver blue glistened violet on her pelt, her curiously lavendar eyes maddened with a red haze that was attached to only one thing: the thread this wolf posed.

She attacked and sprang again with a fresh force, claws gouging into a soft, vulnreable stomach. But exhaustion was ticking in on Nightshade fast in her adrenaline rush ;; she had perhaps a minute now before she would join her beloved in a splay across the ground.

[Destiny]

A loud, shrieking yelp of agony was screamed from Tread's jaws. In his total madness, one of the last of Black Fury's Gang hadn't noticed Nightshade. Now it might be easier to see the condition he was in. Infected, fresh wounds on sides and back. Ribs showing through tattered, dulled pelt. Eyes glazed with insanity, sickness and something.. something else. Wide open, blood splattered jaws were covered in a white, red foam. The wolf snarled, cursing the fresh wounds, and slipping on own blood to fall to the ground. To fall to the ground, just as claws stabbed at belly. "GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME YOU LITTLE HELLFIRE BITCH!" Tread's body jerked, and the last traces of anything resembling sanity were gone. He lunged for Nightshade's throat.

But, like Iver hadn't been able to finish his sentence, Tread didn't make it.

The third wolf bolted from the shadows so swiftly she was a blur. Not quite as fast as Svel of the Destinians, but she was up there with her 'sister'. Electrical amber eyes laced with the blue that fire turns sometimes found their mark. Fangs dug into Tread's neck, body jerking upward as she continued onward, holding onto the brute. A sickening crack sounded.

Iver struggled to his paws, gasping for air, crimson covering him from face to chest, and dripping onto the dirt. Just as alpha was about to lunge, or attempt to, at Tread, a third wolf appeared. The alpha watched, stunned, as an all to familiar female wolf, scenting of rogue, decapitated Tread in front of his very eyes.

[Sivoncé™]

(Ah, I know who it is! ;D )

As fangs lunged to mark Nightshade's peril, grazing over the tips of her pelt, she fell to the ground, into the mud with a sickening smack. No knives purged her throat. No thorns or briars awaited her as she hit thr ground, no prickers waiting to shred her, no acidic remedies lurked in the dark abyss which she entered.

Not dead, but scarcely breathing. Whether it was of her own mis-managed steps, or if her foe had actually been aware of it, a large gash was carved on her left flank, and her cheek was ripped and bleeding rapidly.

She saw nothing, dreamed nothing. Only waited in the dark for a light to break through.

[Destiny]

The many colored, shaded, hued creature whipped around, flinging Tread's messy and bloody head onto the ground somewhere nearby. Fangs grabbed the brute's twitching body, and threw it off into the bushes, where it half hung out and sort of remained in sight. Raising muzzle to the sky, a deep, odd howl seeped through her jaws and into the night air. In only moments, she was not the only wolf in the clearing, other then Iver and Nightshade.

The first to show up was a young, dusty brown, jumpy and over-hyper female wolf. Small in stature, and not overly strong, she seemed weak. However, Fawn held a special power, and when she joined in the howl it showed.

A hazy snow colored figure appeared several paces from Akaira. The scars of war and battle on her thick pelted figure well hidden. Icy gaze raked over Akaira, and Fawn, but quickly passed to Nightshade and Iver. Though she had been summoned by Fawn, the wolf was not there to do Fawn's bidding.

Off in the distance, Svel and Sothis joined in the howling. Somehow they were both aware of what was going on. Maybe it had to do with the fact that Nuka was disintegrating into the smoke nearby where they stood. The two wolves howled for only minutes, but they're howls, along with Akaira's ethereal call, Fawn's summoning one, and Destiny's eerie voice tried to summon one last wolf before they all went silent.

But would Oak show? Or would the brute not come

Iver simply stumbled forward. Eyes to fixated on Nightshade to care for any of the other wolves that appeared near them. And as he collapsed next to her figure, tongue licking pitifully against her muzzle, blood still oozing as the darkness threatened to drag him away again, another voice called from the mountains.

Lacrymosa called out to the heavens. But no wolf would know that it was she. No wolf, except those who knew of her existence. And her call died down after several moments.

The silence fell upon them. The wolves waited. Waited for a miracle.

[Sivoncé™]

It was one that they waited for, but one did not come.
Eight did.
Each came from a differing direction, out from the woods and fog that floundered and wove around them in strange, white strands woven into a thick, vision-impairing blanket. The first that was visible came at a swift jaunt that transformed into a run as he came closer.
None would recognize this male, sized the age of a young adult. He was not this when he died, murdered brutally by what was once his packmate. Too soon had life been taken from him.
"Mom," he breathed, reaching her, burying his nose in her shoulder.
"C'mon, Mom. It's too soon, okay? Too soon..."
Silentfire's whisper was joined by Mystic and Blue Moon's own pleas for her life. They stood, three siblings, at her side.
The others lingered in waiting in a rough circle, the pleasantly cream and brown Amaya, adoptive mother to Nightshade. The only sister Nightshade had known, the similarly pelted Heather, and the one Nightshade had fallen in love with, Heather's brother, Oak. Mystic, Silentfire, and Blue Moon padded over to them, a young, innoccent pup dancing at Mystic's paws that was eerily familiar --- Corsivo.
And the last of the eight was a stranger to all here -- stranger except to perhaps Oak, who met the female's robin's egg blue gaze with desperation and resignation. She was colored a light, cloudy white, and she was known, though known by few, as Freesia.
The eight new arrivals, eight ghostly and deceased, sent up their howls to bond with the others, then slowly padded forward in a proceeding line.
The first three were, again, Nightshade's children. Each of them touched their nose lightly to Iver's, then crossed towards their mother, who they laid down beside. The next, never hesitating, always certain, was Heather. Her eyes were fierce, fiery, passionate with a love that never seemed to die. She was in love, yes, but with no mate. This was for her family. She, too, padded towards Nightshade. But she did not lay beside her; instead, she murmured a blessing and touched her nose to Nightshade's before taking up the howl and stepping back once more.
Corsivo stretched his tiny form and took a small hop to nose Iver's shoulder, as reaching his nose was not likely for the small pup, Corsivo rushed to bury himself next to Mystic.
Amaya came next, gaze pained, as she looked over at the she-wolf she'd raised. She licked Nightshade's nose, then stepped back, but did not take up the howl. Freesia mimicked Amaya, still not answering any of the questioning stares of the forest with any emotion in her gaze.
Oak, last, touched Iver's nose to his much the same as Heather had ;; and acceptence. Oak still loved Nightshade, as Nightshade loved both Iver and Oak, but things would work themselves out. No disloyalty needed to be felt.
Except for Oak was not alive with fire like Heather ;; he was glowing, luminous, even offering a small smile to Iver as he turned to beacon Freesia and the others.
Nightshade's family came autmomatically, moving as one in a single fluid movement until they were over their loved one, bending down to lightly nose her. It was an odd sight to say the least.
Freesia hung back, still apparently hesitant, but eventually she came forth and licked Nightshade's shoulder.
Oak sighed deeply, bending carefully to give a last, adoring caress to his beloved.
"Thank you, Freesia."
"No thanks is needed. Only let it be known that never will destiny part this family, this sacred binding. No wolf within this sacred name will ever have to journey to find themselves, their family, their home, hope, dreams, for every part of them is instilled in what makes us wolves, inside of our minds, behind our eyes, in our hearts ;; look no further for destiny and family, for I do believe destiny is here, and family will come and find you."

Blink.
How strange....
I could've sworn I heard....
Light eyes of slight lavendar flickered open to a clearing by the riverside, warm shoulders close to hers, shoulders so familar...
"Why the hell are there a bunch of wolves howling?" She groaned, lifting a paw to rub her temples.
The bleeding still trickled, but it was a slow, tedious thing.
Only three wolves were in the clearing besides Nightshade.
Behind said eyes of slight lavendar....

But Oak lingered at Iver's shoulder, eyes waiting on Iver's, waiting for the same acceptence Oak had given him.

[Destiny]

The sparkling eyes that would normally have been dancing with energy and life were somewhat dull. The life had seeped so far from him over the past moon, would this agonizing one finally go away too? Crimson was still oozing from wounds, but at a much slower rate then it had earlier on. Before the specters of Twilight, or where-ever they were from, had shown themselves. It took much effort for head to be tilted back ever so slightly. For eyes not to go immediately to Nightshade as she spoke. Nightshade was still alive, and every tendon, muscle, inch of his being wanted to be all over her. Thanking the heavens for bringing his beloved back to him. But eyes were locked onto the spirit that remained there, standing at his shoulder. Thank you, thank you, thank you. In the depths of his eyes, the thankfulness, gratitude, and, most importantly, acceptance of how thins were and would, of Oak, seeped into his gaze. Giving Oak what he wanted, most likely, and letting Iver show what he truly felt in the direction of Nightshade's other lover.

The ghostly specter that remained at Akaira's shoulder would not disappear. No matter how hard Fawn tried to make her go away. "Darn it!" The little wolf grumbled and concentrated once again. Destiny shoved the claiming and sending away effects of Fawn's powers away. Not just yet. Muzzle touched Nightshade's ear, even though she was awake, and whispered something in the fae's ear. The best part was, it would sound like whatever Nightshade wanted to hear. And with that, Destiny turned to her task at hand. "Go home." Blank, emotionless words as gaze stared into Akaira. Then she, like the many others, was gone into the mists.

A light, soft sigh of relief echoed from Fawn's corner of the area. Eyes darted to Akaira, who had called here away from whatever it was that the fae had been doing. There was a question there, but Fawn already knew it would go unanswered, just like all the others. Shaking her head a tad, the dusty wolf turned and disappeared into the smoke.

Akaira turned her gaze from Iver, to Nightshade, to where Oak might still be standing. Saying nothing, paws picked their way across the clearing to where she had thrown Tread. Common sense said that he needed to be buried, or creatures like bears who had yet to go into hibernation, coyotes, fox and the like might consider coming this way. Besides, if another pack found him here, dead, then trouble could stir up. Claws tore at the dirt as the wolf began to dig a grave for Tread's body, and head.

[Sivoncé™]

Nightshade glared as she spotted Akaira, completely unaware of the fact this wolf had taken part in saving her from a certain demise. "Get out of here! What is with everyone today? This is freakin' Siverian territory!" she growled, but slumped back to the ground, unable to stay up for long. She blinked searching for something that was more concerning: "Iver?"

Oak nodded once and faded with the others. To watch them from above, maybe....or to press paws over his eyes and let them write the story with no interference, and to let him be the first to read it when the time came...

[Destiny]

An ear flickered towards Nightshade, but Akaira made no movement to leave just yet. Shoving the filthy corpse down into the shallow grave, claws pulled turf up over it as quickly as possible. "He says he can hear you." Boring, emotionless, monotone voice. Gaze shifted to the other female for a few moments. As, now, there was only the three wolves in the clearing. Smirking, Akaira turned away from whatever images Destiny was playing in her mind. A soft grimace upon her features, and she turned to dash off into the forest from which she'd come. "He also doesn't know whether or not he's about to lose a life." With that, bitch was gone.

The word seemed quiet, far away, ethereal. It was a name. Just a name, just his name. But it seemed so unreal. Still, he could hear it. Knew who's voice it was. Knew she was alive. For that, Iver could have jumped for such joy that he touched the sky. Yet, he moved not. This life had been seeping from him slowly over the past moon. Whether or not he'd lose it just yet was uncertain, as sometimes, lives dragged on until the alpha died of something or other. He twitched, twitched again, and that was all there was as chest heaved up and down.

[Sivoncé™]

"Iver?" The whisper issued from her so soft, so gentle, so quiet and tender and sound that it could've fit into the clouds that came from her maw as she breathed in the cruel, harsh cold of the morning. The mist still hung hazy, dusty, like tattered shawls and drapes to wrap and warp the world in mystery. The trees, stripped black and bear, looked like wild, snarling, open howls of the deceased and tormented, as if Hellfire had set free its true prisoners in order to take captive the precious woodlands that gave home to such wolves as the two that lay in the clearing.

Nightshade blinked, realizing just now that she was absolutely trembling, quiviering with waterfalls of anxiety that clung to her and froze heavy, like the dew drops hanging from the sparse, scratchy grasses. "Iver? Iver, love, please wake up, IVER!" She nosed his shoulder, standing up immediately and breaking the ice that coated her ;; alarms were prepared to pump adrenaline through her veins as soon as she failed to detect the heartrate of her lover, and some were already sounding.

"IVER!" She screamed, immediate tears sprining to her eyes and she fell to her knees and collapsed back into the space she had laid only moments before. She pawed herself into position so she could lay her head on his chest, gingerly, carefully. She closed her eyes, liquid stilled momentarily, and listened with held breath.

She exhaled long, relieved, still bothered, but accepting the fact that there was no use of panic for now -- Iver still had life in his lungs, however shallow and frail, it was life she cherished and treasured to the very edges of her being.