the *SUN* will --SET-- for >YOU< (Damien|Sanceul)

[Sivoncé™]

Pools of silver sloshed and splattered, rippled and torn by the crushing rain, but now sent in even more disarray by the onslaught of determined pawsteps moving at a ferocious speed despite the weight they carried. A blur of darkness and silver tunneled through the downpour that had yet to cease, though the waterlogged forest was holding its breath that the worst was over. Whistling drafts flew along side of the lupine figure, the rushing winds, so eager to deter the wolf and his companion, did not have to do much to instill great turmoil to the withstanding plant life and warrior woodlands. But still, Damien powered on through the cascades of wet.

Images were flickering fast through his mind. Images of Sanceul.....of Secret Fang,....of Redfang....of his loathed mother.....a mysterious father.....a broken sister......of his entire death, and the lightning-shock that was life, all up until the point that was now, the point where he was pelting through the aftershocks of a cyclone in desperation to reach the den he had past visisted...

Pebbles at the cave's shadowed entryway clattered and rustled slightly as Damien halted. Panting, he glanced around, then dipped into the mouth of the stone structure. The tunnel didn't go deep, and it rounded out to a decent-sized hollowing just out of the entrance's sight. Enough room for him and Sanceul. Enough room for three wolves, maybe....but Secret Fang wasn't coming back, and he wasn't going to find her, either.

He laid Sancuel down as gently as he could, wishing he hadn't left this cave during the past moon -- he had no moss or fresh kill for her, nor did they have any means of aquiring either while the storms continued. Herbs, he might be able to find....a sense of cold forboding trickled down his spine, much like the unceasing drippings sky-birthed waterdroplets, only feet away...

They had gotten lucky.
And luck was something to be cherished, but never depended upon. When Sanceul had slept, and Damien was sure he could leave without her falling asleep again, then he would venture into the greeneries for the few herbs he knew could help her. That way, if all else failed....she could at least howl and he could take whoever came from the behind....

He slumped back against the cave wall, blinking towards Sanceul with a curiosity, and great respect. We're different, to say the least.....so very different.....but.....she's been a better friend than Secret Fang has been. She's been a better wolf, not running from the face of something foreign or dangerous, not assuming she's better than another race...heck, even having the personality to, unconsciously, unlock me and make me spill my guts, every gory detail....
A friend......a friend.
Not the way he used to feel the delightful, yet nerve-increasing butterflies. But warmth did make its way into him -- the warmth of knowing that at least somebody still had his back.

[.Rabid Lycan.]

When at last the continuous rumbling of thunderous pawsteps ceased to resound within the fae’s ears, Sanceul slowly opened one eye—her eye of deep, rich sapphire that squinted in the dim light of the den. She found herself focusing on a familiar wolf leaning against the wall, and her mind immediately fell into a semi-relaxed state.
At least it’s better than waking up to Regulus and company.
Her muscles tightening, she planted her forepaws on the ground and pushed her upper body off the ground. She managed to lift herself a few inches before collapses on her side again, every nerve screaming with protest. A pain also shot through her side and spine, reminding her of the ribs she had broken during the brawl.
…wow… the one that knows herbs is the one that gets hurt. How flippin’ ironic…
…dear Lupus… I curse whatever force that decided to make me the size of a mouse…
Her body buzzing with shock from her injuries, she slowly slackened her jaw long enough to utter a few words to the wolf beside her.
“…thanks Mr. Superman… that was a fun tussle, wasn’t it?”
The obvious sarcasm in her voice indicated that she was calming down.
“…I swear… one day I’m gonna walk up behind that bastard and shove him into a pit of spikes…” Her voice was tired and weak, but she felt comforted in hearing the sound of wolves talking, even if she was the only wolf speaking. It let her know that she was still able to keep fighting.

[Sivoncé™]

"....mm...?" Damien groaned, groggy and dozing rapidly, and raised his head to look at Sanceul. "...how are you feeling....?" he woofed, hoping the run hadn't aggravated any wounds she may have procured. Well, we're free of them for now....we'll be fine once the storm is over. And then maybe I'll think about that "joining a pack" idea again.....hell, I guess I'd better make the most of it and just suck up the pain. At least they'll be able to join me someday, maybe, in Twilight, right? I dunno. I guess the heavens would realize I do indeed exist if I planted myself under their gaze...

He shook himself and stood, padding a few feet and stretching his limbs -- stiff from the rain. Now's not the time, though... He looked back towards Sanceul apologetically. "I don't know much about herbs, but I'll try and do the best I can once the rain calms a bit," he woofed.

[.Rabid Lycan.]

Sanceul raised a brow at his seemingly concerned inquiry, trying to lift her head to utter a reply.
"Never better," she responded with a stark voice. But an amused gleam in her eyes revealed that she wasn't as cold as she sounded. Then, not wanting to appear completely weak and defensless (which was a fairly accurate description of her current state), she managed to bring her head up above her shoulder blades, feeling a soreness throb just behind her ear.
Dear GoldenWolf... I'm such a mess right now, aren't I?
"...you wouldn't think it if you look at my lifestyle, but I know a bit about herbs," she woofed softly. "If you go out.... try to find some cobwebs and a plant called comfrey if you can... it has large leaves and small, white flowers... I think."
She blinked slowly, failing to summon an image of the needed plant to her mind. Then, suddenly, she remembered that Damien, too, had participated in a fight.
"...you're not hurt, are you?"

[Sivoncé™]

Damien was a bit surprised by Sanceul's herb knowledge, but seeing as he'd never even heard of comfrey before, it was a good thing for her that she did. He nodded, coming to the conclusion that he'd passed this herb before, but had not known of any healing qualities. Cobwebs, well, those almost went without saying...
"All right....cobwebs....comfrey...." he murmured. He eyed the edges of the cave, spying some of the thick, white weavings. "Well, I'll go and look for comfrey after getting the cobwebs....I'll try and be as quick as possible." He stood and turned, sticking out a forepaw to wrap some of the webs around. "Me?" he asked, wincing. "Eh....just a few scratches," he lied, nowhere near being skillfully deceitful.
In truth, Damien's chest and stomach felt on fire -- burning slash-marks ran long and deep in said areas. His black and silver was parted by maroon stains, but he was hoping that Sanceul wouldn't take note of them just yet -- she was worse than him and therefore needed care faster. "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine!" He snorted, a little more conviction in this staement than his previous one.
Eh. At least she's still being bearable.

[.Rabid Lycan.]

Sanceul narrowed her eyes at him.
He's a terrible liar...
"...you sure?"
Her flame-tipped tail twitched when she noticed a trickle of blood on Damien's coat. Damn... he's either being a tough guy or he's trying to help me first. Either way, it's kind of annoying...
"...just grab some extra cobwebs for yourself, at least..." she murmured, finally resting her head on the ground again. It was hell to keep her head up high when she spoke; her dignity could wait until she was better.

[Sivoncé™]

Damien snorted, a strange flicker of defiance in him. Sure, his wounds did hurt like hell, but so what? Why give Sanceul the satisfaction of being right? Maybe she was rubbing off on him, and that was the cause of his hostilities; she was, after all, prickly. Damien, until recently, had never really been that great at sticking up for himself. Had to have gotten it somewhere...Hey, wasn't I just thinking warm-and-fuzzy friendship thoughts?
He felt the bizarre urge to laugh, and restrained himself with great difficulty. He looked away from Sanceul, a smug smirk on his maw. She'd probably accuse him of being insane again. Oh, yes, another one of those conversations... He sighed heavily, and left a great wad of cobwebs next to the place Sanceul rested. ....haha. It's funny...how did I get 'friend' out of all of this again? Eh, who knows. Maybe she just wanted to pick a fight for the sake of fighting and then realized she was in over her head with Regulus...
He dipped out of the den, the rain having slowed, and began the search for comgrey. Shivering slightly at the thought of the brute, one that had long terrified him in death, he started out into the woods, senses alert and erect for any signs of the Hellfirians.
Well, this is it, isn't it? They know I'm alive, and the massacre will begin once it rubs around Snare's ears.... He frowned deeply now, thoughts lingering on his sister, a sister who could've grown up to be something more than just Snare's puppet....
Eh. I think this is comfrey.
He took as much as he could carry of the herb, then made his way back to the den and pushed it towards Sanceul.

[.Rabid Lycan.]

Sanceul sighed when he didn't reply to her request.
He's not going to heal himself... eh, figures. Males are practically all the same...
Once Damien had vacated the den, she leaned over and grasped the cobwebs between her teeth and twisted her body... only to feel every muscle screaming in rich agony at the movement.
Shit. At this rate, I'll even need help putting these cobwebs on...
She slowly began to wrap her bleeding leg, wincing in discomfort from the position that she was in.
She had only just finished wrapping her paw when Damien reappeared, dropping herbs at her paws. She drew the plants against her chest and began to chew them into a useful poultice.
"...no cobwebs for you, then?" she asked in a monotone. She sounded as if she didn't expect an answer, and continued trying to heal herself.

[Sivoncé™]

Damien made a noise that sounded like hurrumph and nodded to a smaller white blob in the opposite corner to Sanceul. "Seriously, you sound like a worried old croon," he shook his head and made his way back to his side of the den. The rain was still pitter-pattering outside of the burrow, dropping from clouds that were unsatisfied even with the entire valley in carnage and wreck. Damien laid down and sighed.

After a few moments of uneasy silence, he decided to speak his mind. Might as well, right? Not like she would get up and slap him when they were both injured....
"I know you pretended to be all good and have my back back there, but honestly, what in Hellfire's name were you thinking?"
That was good. Just cut to the chase and be blunt about it...

[.Rabid Lycan.]

Sanceul scoffed. “Worried old croon? Well, we can’t have that now, can we?” She growled moments afterward, having bent to far in one direction and receiving a jolt of pain in response.
She paused in her healing, however, when Damien prompted her.
“What, I can’t be a good citizen?”
Her mouth was dry as she spoke, and slowly she turned to view Damien with both her eyes—her endlessly black orb seemingly staring past the brute in front of her.
“Quite frankly, I don’t know. It started as me just trying to get information… to see if what you were telling me was true.” She looked away, scowling. “…and it was true. But then that bastard caught me… would’ve talked my way out, but there was no way I’d agree to following my ‘mom’ or acting like…” she trailed off before adding a stronger, ”No way!”
Turning completely away from Damien and resting her muzzle on her bloody paws, she muttered, “Feel free to call me an idiot, unprepared, or reckless, but I honestly don’t give a damn.”

[Sivoncé™]

Damien sighed, giving up his odd urge for antagonism. He even chuckled softly, laying down to finally press some cobwebs to his gashes. "Eh, well, I bet we both gave them something to talk about, at least," he smiled at her apologetically.
He was an internal mess, honestly. He wasn't sure what to do, what to feel -- there was no obvious answer. He could feel alarmed, and attempt to flee the valley and stay hidden....but that's what he had been doing before, anyway. In essence, nothing really had to change. He would just have to be slightly more careful. But this option left....disappointment instilled in him...
A familiar voice echoed in his ear, a tantalizing, fierce, unforgiving bark, Fight, damnit Damien! Don't be soft, don't let them mold you into something less than a wolf! Why should they dictate what you do? Psh, you're nobody's warrior but your own if you don't let them continue to suck you in! Why would you deny yourself such freedoms? The enemy of your enemy is your friend, now ally yourself with them!
Eh. Crimson got one thing right....
"Sanceul...do you know much about the packs?" he woofed, thoughtful.

[.Rabid Lycan.]

Ignoring his first statement, Sanceul sighed and searched the wall of the den that stood inches from her face, listening to the storm just beyond their sanctuary.
And then, out of the blue, Sanceul heard Damien speak of the packs. Her ears flying erect, she turned (painfully quick) to look at the brute in surprise. The packs? What's he talking about?
"Only a little... not much, really. Just stories and such... why?"
Stories... oh, I used to love those stories as a kid... before Blood came, that's all I'd ask about... my poor father, having to tell them over and over... my true father...

[Sivoncé™]

Damien shrugged, studying the ceiling of their earthen residence. "All I really know are stories, too -- older ones, though. I guess what I was contemplating was....pack character. I mean, there's four of them, so obivously that's a lot of wolves and they can't be governed under one leader....but I'm just curious what it is exactly that sets them apart. Sure, I've heard the old 'Sheerans are compassionate, Siverians are determined, Destinians are loyal, Yozorans are sly' crap, but that honestly isn't say much of anything. A wolf from any one of them could hold all of those characteristics," he woofed, thinking aloud. "I was too fascinated with stories of the past that I didn't really think to ask much of present and future..." he murmured to himself.

[.Rabid Lycan.]

Sanceul offered a weak shrug in response. "I suppose I was the same when I was little-- the past was intersting and the future was ignored..." Uttering a soft sigh, she murmured, "The legends say that Golden Wolf assigned four wolves to four packs, and that was how it needed to be. Never said why. But centuries of time later, the packs are still seperated... I'm guessing it's just accepted that there are four seperate packs, regardless of characteristics. I mean, it's hard to erase that everlasting tradition, isn't it? Years and years of always having four packs... it's probably near impossible to undo that kind of mindset in a pack wolf..." She trailed off, thinking both fondly and sadly of her foster father... the wolf that she hadn't seen since she had left to get her revenge on--
Morgan.
She stiffened.
Shit... shit. I just saw it in my own eyes-- it's true. Hellfire is open... but Morgan? He'll be out too... oh, god, he's alive again!
Her fur was bristling slightly now, and she curled her tail tighter around her form to calm her down.
Relax, relax... Morgan can't find us here... it's a safe place, isn't it? Yeah... a safe place...

[Sivoncé™]

Damien nodded, ears twitching oddly at something he said. He rolled over, blinking at her, slightly perplexed. "Really? I always learned five wolves and five packs....four remained in the valley and the other pack roamed the mountains....they splintered off eventually, though...." He woofed. He was too distracted now by the rising admiration and enchantment he felt by retracing the old, ancient legends and myths to remember he was trying to gauge out which pack would be best for him to join. He supposed he should, in theory, trace his bloodline, but he didn't even know who his father was, and could he really trace Crimson all the way back to the Sheerans? No...when Blood Mist and White Mist split, they became complete opposites....
"Which is your favorite?" he murmured after a while, still happily dosing in and out of the dream world he found in the tales. "Story, I mean..."