.Dead.of.Night.

[Sivoncé™]

Tonight, the sky was inky black without the comforting halo of silver moonlight in the sky; it was the new moon. Depite the abscence of the moon itself, the stars glittered all the more brilliantly against the canvas of pitch darkness. The air was cool, the earth was still, and the first particles of frost dusted the tips of the grasses.
From the shadowed copse of woodland on the Yozoran border, two lupine bodies looked out anxiously at the familiar, haunted clearing. One was a russet-brown femme, the other her gray-furred, broad-shouldered brother.
Mama died here.
Autumn didn't know it, but she was shivering from head to toe. A coldness had overtaken her and sank its fangs down into the marrow of her bones. What we see tonight could be horrifying.

Kasparr pressed close to her side for comfort. He, too, was shaking.
He breathed shallowly, for fear of breaking the silent night. I hope we understand what we've gotten ourselves into. As he breathed in, their cover smell of garlic wafted up around him. At the very least, we won't be scented.

Huddled together in the shadowed copse of woodlands, the brother and sister awaited their third companion, and the subject of their scrutiny.

[featherswift]

The night was hauntingly perfect and yet somewhere something ached inside him. It was just like that night from his past, the one he wished to never remember ever again unless stuck in a rut. He hadn't been thinking about night after the flames on purpose until wind brought the stench of decay and burnt embers.

Now, as he ran to the twilight clearing to meet with two once Yozorans while garlic smell wafted from his fur, it stung. He growled at himself to hold it together. The pain finally numbed and faded from existance. He had other things to worry about than the past, like how his alpha was going behind his pack's backs.

Two forms appeared lengths in front of him and he waved his tail to let them know it was him. Their eyes were shining with the little light there was on this new moon. He walked up to them and nodded. To an outsider it looked almost like a small pack forming,a band of friends, fun, but instead it was a mission to help a pack from being overcome by fraught leadership.

His dark eyes met their's. "Are you ready," he said lowly.

[.Rabid Lycan.]

Black. Pure black.
Some heavenly ink well spilled across the horizon, casting off the façade of golden and azure splendor that so absorbed the forest during the idle afternoon long past. No, no longer bright, no longer gold. The world was far too splintered with wounds for such charades.
Enter the wraith. Were it not for the scent, the creature would be nothing more than a smudge on the canvas. It was invisible. Stealth. Tonight, there was no moon to guide its movements, and no anchor of responsibility to weigh its gait. No, not this evening. As it tilted its crown skyward, it revealed a head bald of bone. That is, he was awake.
For the moment, Hades had fled.
Crisp air scorched still-healing sores, and as the sway of his step slowed, Bain lowered himself to the cushion of clovers underpaw. His bones were soaked with chill, but he nevertheless continued staring off into the deep recesses of some universe far beyond their own. It was contemplation only common for some former embodiment of himself. Before all this duty of leadership, before the mountains… before war entered the lives of all he looked over.
Maybe it was all a matter of time. Had he been destined to snap since his origins? Was an abusive past to blame, or pressure? Or was it all just chance. Even now, as he sprawled out among the grasses, he did not acknowledge any notion of Hades.
And even now, still sprawling, he felt naked.
His ears tilted forward, and some subconscious urge beckoned him to don his mask and perform his sworn duty—to save this forest and preserve its purity—but he did not recognize its pleas. Not now, when the night was so young, and the sky so clear.
Not now.

[Sivoncé™]

Solemnly, the two gave small nods of affirmation.

But then, the sight of him -- the object of their scrutiny -- took Autumn's gaze to the clearing ahead. At first, she tense with an instinctual fear that quavered in her heart. For a few moments, she blinked wide-eyed at the Yozoran alpha as her heart pounded in her ears. And then, slowly, it quieted into it's resting rhythm, and she felt nothing but an empty pity in her heart and a mild disgust for what she'd done. He hasn't done anything wrong....he's just trying to deal with everything, just like everyone else is...he might be an alpha, but he's still just a wolf like anybody else.
"You tricked us, Jolon," she whispered tightly. "You implied you had reason enough to suggest that there was something malicious involved in all of this." Her eyes suddenly narrowed to dangerous slits. "Maybe you're the one who has the problem. He must be doing the best he can, and you're expected him to be superhuman."

Kasparr felt a mild slant of guilt as Autumn berated the Yozoran who had led them here. However, at the same time, he could not bring himself the same quick and easy conclusions that she had formed. "Just wait, Autumn -- just watch him for a bit longer. If there's nothing fishy, then we'll get out of here and find Tria, alright?" His intent gaze never left the figure of Bain in the clearing. If what Autumn says is true, and if this is what it looks like....then why do I feel like there's something off about him?

Less than a mile in the opposite direction, wreathed in a forest of darkness, a blood-hearted she-wolf trod the scent-path of a Yozoran who had purged the lands of Blood Mist.

[featherswift]

Jolon blinked as they signaled they were ready. Autumn started and he stared off into the moonless clearing. To his astonishment, Bain had already come and laid down among the last stalks of grass fall would allow to grow. His eyes studied the alpha quietly. The sensation he was getting made him feel uneasy. This felt wrong, wrong to be spying on the alpha. A hint of white lowered to a sharp grey because of the gloom caught his eyes as soon as Autumn's exasperated whine met his ears.

Kasparr told her to wait and Jolon flicked his ears as if he had heard nothing. His fall leaf colored orbs lighted towards Autumn's bright ones. "Do you not see what is next to his paws?," he mouthed. The light grey thing had puzzled him, but he turned back to it and stared, trying to realize exactly what it was. These lands had nothing of that color on them until just now.

The actions Bain was displaying seemed odd as well. Why were his ears alert as if something was talking to him? It made no sense in his mind, but then again in reality, Bain's mind was no comparison to Jolon's.

[.Rabid Lycan.]

There was the rhythmic tick tock of crickets, all buzzing in harmony somewhere in the distance. No… no, that couldn’t be right. The tongue of frost licked the air, and all the summer lullabies had long been silenced. But then why, oh why, did he hear the in sync humming, like a beating drum, loud and vicious in his ears. Maybe a bug had crawled up inside his head, clicking, sometimes screeching. Marching, too. A drumming bug.
It’s so loud.
His steady breaths grew short, wispy clouds exiting his nostrils.
What would it take… for things to be quiet…
He hadn’t realized it. It used to be simple—whatever sanity that Bain himself possessed had been the puppet master. His body was his own; his mind refused to acknowledge any other idea of reality. The strings—those fragile, fragile strings—would sever. Violence, an idea—something would clip them. Hades would surface, but he would revert. Like a fighting alcoholic, he would revert. But now, there was something distant… Bain did not contain Hades. Hades now contained Bain.
He hadn’t realized it, but he was on the brink of forgetting his identity forever. There were no longer strings, no longer a need to clip them. Whatever switch that controlled his sanity had vanished—it was only chance now.
He coughed suddenly.
And the dice were loaded.
…quiet like the snow…
He fell upward, onto his paws, his frame jerking violently with the motion. He coughed, almost in a convulsion, and collapsed. Asleep, if only for several moments, before sliding into another stand. He stared forward, his posture stiff. Slowly, he took a step. Another step. Faster steps. Two, three, five, nine—
My face! Where is my face? WHERE IS IT?[/color]
He scrambled through the limbo of his subconscious, unable to remember either Bain or Hades, but that single goal of retrieving some form of stable identity. That face… that face. He could not recall where he had cast it aside in his return from Blood Mist, nor could he realize that he already possessed a skull within his own flesh.
No… he found it now.
Bain had skidded away from the clearing, nearly tripping over the bundle of thickets that housed his precious skull. The dirtied token of the Destinians stared up at him, as if with a mind of his own, and Bain finally permitted the connection. His new face slid easily over the old, and he breathed deeply, slowly, and with a crashing wave of euphoria.
He was awake.

[Sivoncé™]

Autumn sighed and hissed in exasperation, "What are you two talking about, I don't see anything! Oh, that? That's probably just or rock or something, look closer -- oh!" Autumn's voice was suddenly cut short as she lost her breath. A monster stood where Bain, her alpha, had laid only moments before. He was a demon from hell, a wraith, a phantom. And the glistening white object, raising bile in her throat, was the skull of a wolf placed on his head like Satan's most prized diadem.
The air did not return to her lungs; Autumn fell back and fainted among the brush with an audible thump.

What in hellfire's name....?
There were no words to describe this sudden twist in the universe.
A shiver rattled down his spine, along with a cold chill that settled into his spine. His heart shuddered as Autumn suddenly fell to the earth. For a moment, his eyes were sickly fascinated with the horror that had erupted from hell and swallowed Bain whole.
And then he snapped into frightening awareness. Autumn!
He prodded frantically at her shoulder, whimpering softly when she didn't wake. "Jolon, we need to get out of here -- get back and tell the others! He's sick, Jolon! He's ill in the head, he's not the wolf he once was! I don't know what happened to him, but he'll.....he'll kill us if we stay!"

The she-wolf neared the clearing with growing anticipation placing a briskness in her stride.
They'll crumble to bits and blow away in the winds of the new era...like the sands of time...

[featherswift]

Jolon's ears fell as Autumn carried on as he drowned her out of his hearing. Then a weird sight appeared in front of them. Bain's aura changed to one he did not know. It seemed hungry and insane. The alpha's movements were puppet like as he got onto his paws and then collapsed in a heap for a few minutes. What in the world was this wolf doing? Then as if he had prompted Bain to wake, the male slid up onto his paws.

No moon shone, but Jolon could plainly see the craze light writhing through Bain's eyes. He felt wrong, not terrified, but exposed in a sort of way. It was a feeling he'd never felt before and it sickened him. The form of his alpha began to scramble through the clearing, looking for something. A growl exploded from the maw of the beast and Jolon knew Bain wasn't there anymore. This beast was something else, this horrendous beast was no longer his alpha.

Bain stopped and put his head into the ground only to pull it back up to reveal what was next to his paw. His stomach immediately felt queasy as it tightened. He was donning a skull of another wolf as if it was perfectly natural. The floor felt as if it was made of water and he was sinking into his unknown depths with only fear as comfort. The whole scenario felt wrong and mad.

He saw from the side that Autumn was collapsing and then his ears proved what he had seen. She had fainted and he didn't blame her at all. At the moment he wanted to convulse and show the world what his stomach carried. It wasn't the time though, but bile stung in the back of his throat. The burning was the only reassurance that this was real. This was not a dream, but reality.

Jolon kept his eyes upon the male in the clearing, making sure he did not come this way as Kasparr whispered to him. His eyes flitted over the two and he signaled with his tail that he agreed. "We need to leave now, but quietly. I don't know what he'd do to his pack mates now," he mouthed with barely any air to carry his words.

His body leaned down and he started to get Autumn onto her feet again with his muzzle. They might have to carry her, but they needed to leave at this very moment.

[.Rabid Lycan.]

Slow breaths, as if his heart were adapting to a new pace. Every fiber of his being realigned to suit the new demon at the helm. A new window of awareness swung violently ajar, screeching on its hinges. Bain was a pawn, and only a pawn—very nearly disposable, as far as Hades was concerned. But the wild darkness that burned in his eyes remained firmly separated from evil, mind you. No… he was not pure monster. Not in his mind. What did he want, but a paradise for his comrades. A haven to cushion the valley in its inevitable and rapid descent.
Sanctuary.
This world is a decaying hourglass; the time to act is now. But we must tread carefully…
His eyes slowly slid along the worn path that snaked from the clearing, each orb staring through the rugged brush at that distant home he knew stood there—Blood Mist. Such promise, yet such ignorance. Such chaos. All will come to accept the design, and to defend it. The lives of some for the lives of many; so obvious once you consider the rewards. At long last, an answer.
He brought himself to a stand, and began wandering slowly from his station, away from the hidden spectators that he had not yet detected. Unintentionally, yet beckoned by some unidentifiable force, his steps carried him closer to the ash-scented fae.
Pulled together, like gravity.
Undeniable gravity.

[Sivoncé™]

It was the moment she had waited for since the moment she'd been reincarnated; no, the moment she'd waited for from the very instant the cruel claws of a pack wolf had ended her short life prematurely. Even in the instant she was conceived, and before then -- the very first dawning skies of time, this night had been predestined to occur. The gods of vengeance and nemesis had willed it to be so, and Assyria believed it wish all of her anguished heart. She knew nothing now but the storms of hatred, and so her world was made for her by the gods and goddesses of blood and war. To her broken, twisted dieties, she sent a fervent prayer.
Let them taste the atmosphere when it is full and bulging with the taint that they injected inside of me all those years ago. Let them reek of their own hantred and indecency. Let it seek them out and suffocate them, and let it grow like a tumor until it obliterates all that they once knew. And then, I will reach my peace. Then, my body has served its purpose and I can depart again for whatever chamber of the underworld awaits me.
There was a clearing up ahead, and at the tantalizing sight of it, she sprinted the final stretch and burst forth from the undergrowth. Chest heaving, she rattled to a sudden halt and crouched close to the ground. Her heavy pants were half-gasping half-snarling, as most of her sounds had become. Everything she did was underlined with her purpose.
And then, by grace of divine providence, she saw him.
"Hades..."
The name curled off of her tongue as a hiss is uttered from a snake. Sneering, she raised herself to a stand and circled her hooded denizen -- a mere tool to be used while she needed him. With a smirk and a snarl, she mocked him.
"So, at last, I have the pleasure of meeting the mighty wolf in sheep's clothing....the Yozoran secretly playing his games with Blood Mist. I'm afraid you've never had the privelage of my presence before; I failed to receive a formal invitation to your last little...get-together. Cute, really, how together you think you are. But like I've told you, you've never met me before, and by the ignorance of your actions, you must not have heard much, either. Well, how about I enlighten you, hm?"
She came to a halt in front of him, chin raised and eyes narrowed to slits.
"I am a queen by the name of Assyria, and you are a pitiful peasant. Next time, if you intentionally ignore this detail, I'll have your head cut off -- both of them. Don't think your little headdress impresses me. But onto more important things -- why I am dishonoring myself by consorting with you. You have something you need to do for me, Hades."

No...this can't be...this can't be happening....Even Kasparr couldn't have imagined this. At the very worst, he believed the alpha was making plans to desert his pack at its time of most dire need. And here he was, their great leader, consorting with the enemy. He whispered frantically to Jolon.
"We need to get back with Autumn and warn the pack -- if we're lucky, we can get enough to form a mutiny and force Bain into exile. We'll need to hurry, but be careful -- they can't detect us or we're toast, and we need time to get the pack on our side."Good lord...they'll never believe us! And who would? This is impossible...
Autumn moaned in the brush, a small inkling of consciousness seeping back into her form.

[.Rabid Lycan.]

Gravity had its way, only the creature was not quite prepared for the next spectacle that he would encounter. That is, if he would assume his original form, he would have been stunned into silence by the fae’s entrance, and quite probably enraged.
For now, he simply stared.
Her ranting words jeered, probing at his pride, his presentation—everything about him. All the same, it was not so much hurtful as it stirred pity within him. So depressing a creature he considered, giving no indication of a reaction—defiant, amused, irritated, or otherwise—but feeling the duty of the tranquil teacher swelling in his chest.
And he spoke.
[glow=maroon,2,300]“Dear child, why so serious? Why so discourteous? You claim yourself queen, yet you fail to provide evidence. Titles are insignificant; what you accomplish is what defines the self. And, thus far, you have only accomplished in blatantly highlighting your insecurities. Now, how is it that you charge me with ignorance when you flaunt your immaturity in this way? Surely a queen would have surpassed this behavior.”[/glow]
He paused long, looking over Assyria, as if hardly acknowledging her. No, this fae definitely required aid—just not exactly in the form she desired.
[glow=maroon,2,300]“True enough, I am not the champion of the hour. I am but a catalyst in a step toward unity, toward some ultimate paradise. Discrimination of packs, Blood Mist or otherwise, is insignificant. We are all wolves, and none are born on a platform above the other. You would do well to recognize this fact before it kills you.”[/glow]
He coughed suddenly, as if the helmet were suffocating him.
[glow=maroon,2,300]“…regardless, I am willing to listen to your proposition. Name your cause.”[/glow]

[Sivoncé™]

For a moment, the she-wolf appeared to tremble in rage; her copper eyes flared crimson. And then, just as quickly, a harmless smile appeared on the lips of the femme and she cocked her head at him as if scrutinizing an insect that had caught itself in her claws. She chuckled softly, and her smile widened.
"Oh, but dear, I'm afraid your dinner manners have failed you -- I can see hypocrisy splattered all over your chin! No matter; as I have said already, it was a mistake to ignore me in my own kingdom, and, as I believe you would call it, it was a rather discourteous way to behave around a lady. Don't worry -- I'll let you make up for it. It tickles me you're so concerned about preserving my life, but you see, my life was gone long ago, so you've no need to fret. "
Oh, I'll tell you what kind of platform I was born under you little..."I have a business proposition of sorts, but before I can truthfully tell you it interests us both, I would have to know what interests you, wouldn't I? Well, Hades, what is your interest with my people?"

[.Rabid Lycan.]

Steady breathing. His eyes began to drift back earthward, settling comfortably on his counterpart. His words had seemed to be met with little progress, but it was no matter. With time, she would come to see, like a stubborn fledgling with dreams of premature flight.
Not yet.
[glow=maroon,2,300]“Very well, miss. My concern lies with the fate of these people—all the packs. They are destined for calamity, you see—no, not really. We are destined for calamity—the rogues, the mountaineers, the Hellfirians, the packs. Especially the packs. There are legacies long forgotten that never should have been. And now, as we each sit day by day, we watch this shaky peace dwindle. Packs are no longer homes; there are no homes. What is the use of loyalty when there is no sense of it? Why should one fight for a name they no longer have any stake in? Siverians, Sheerans—they are all the same. And, as much as many deny it, Blood Mist is no different from a Destinian as a Sheeran is from a Yozoran. We are identical, and yet there is violence. Disunity. Unfamiliarity.
“Now, these wolves have survived many a war. But to think of the consequences, this hellbound spiral that we tread upon—we have within our power to contain it. To redirect the energies. It is within my interest, and, I hope to discover, within the interests of others, to preserve this forest, including your pack. Union is what I propose. Unfortunately, such a feat demands a considerable price. The backing of many is what I seek, should it come to more persuasive means of change. Blood Mist is ideal for this purpose… I would hope to sway its allegiance to the goal of blending the packs.”[/glow]
A long pause. More staring.
[glow=maroon,2,300]“…it does concern me, however, why you have forsaken life so early. Have you considered an alternate ending to your story? But, I digress—what are your terms?”[/glow]

[Sivoncé™]

When the opening verbal spar had come to a close, both standing somewhat formidable but deteriorated in the opposer's eyes. Nevertheless, Assyria felt all of the reasons she'd came here swimming in her mind and her stance changed as she listened to the wolf speak. When he had finished, she felt a wince smite her lips.
"It...was an accident. I was chosen for a very...specific battle at about eight months of age. I died before I knew what was happening. I am dead, but I now stand before you; perhaps it is not true life, but it will suffice for my purpose."
She tensed as she realized she'd spoken far more than necessary on his brief tangent embedded cleverly in his speech. He's trying to get me to show a weakness. I have to be careful.
"That is all very well, and perhaps you make a valid point. However, you are not the first to see that Blood Mist is the more....opportune platform for the foundations of some envisionment of empire. Others before you -- Death, Verlust, Bloodsbane, take your pick -- have tried to harness Blood Mist for their own purpose and all have failed. Forgive if this is insulting, but why do you think you're any different? The only stable leadership Blood Mist has ever had is through my mother's dynasty. It would do no good to dismantle such a system unless there is a suitable replacement. Perhaps, as you say, all wolves will be able to unite with time, but my concern is for my people and what your ideals may cost them."

[.Rabid Lycan.]

[glow=maroon,2,300]“Babylonia has brought stability, you say. Your criticisms are more than justified—expected, even. But I must confess, I do not truly seek stability. No, not just stability. A pack can thrive under the iron will of an oppressive tyrant and remain ‘stable’. No… no. I seek peace, Assyria. I seek a future where mothers and fathers can nurture their children, where ‘authority’ is a divided labor. War is a filthy affair; unfortunately, as the centuries will echo, the best stimulus for transformation is violence. It is an undeniable truth, depressing as it is. Only on the brink of extinction does one really discover the will to yield—to not only compromise or bandage the wounds, but to fix the problem. To truly change.
“You ask me, then, how I am different. I can only offer you this: I am no leader. I have no interest in dominating some glorified regime until heaven crashes down unto the earth. Verlust, for example—she never evolved. She possessed morality, of course—many wolves would dismiss that, but it is true. She was not heartless; that is not why she failed. But the goal? Change of powers. Regime shift—and what can one accomplish with that? Myself, I aim for a change of ideas… that, and I am no external foe. I intend to work, and have long been working, from the inside out. I am not the only one with these ideas, nor are my allies isolated in Blood Mist. There are those in the packs with similar goals—tell me, was Bloodsbane able to rally pack assistance to his aid?
“…all the same, I have nothing more to offer you at this time, except for this: the packs are disintegrating, and Blood Mist will follow. There is weakness here. What more suitable alternative would you suggest?”[/glow]
He inhaled slowly, as if attempting to absorb the starlight that danced along the edge of his nose. Dual maroon eyes aimed skyward, never blinking, never shuddering at the crispness of the air. It was a sincere night, a fateful night. Premonitions of future plans jumbled clumsily through his brain. An odd exhaustion crept across through his thoughts; he felt relaxed. Drowsy. As if the true Bain were threatening to drag Hades back into its peaceful slumber.
But not yet.
[glow=maroon,2,300]“Consciousness is life. It is what you do with that life that decides whether or not it is ‘true’. We are the guiding force of our own destiny. I can only pray that your ‘purpose’ is something you have selected for yourself this time.”[/glow]