__ f . l . y __ d r a g o n f l y __ [private]

[.Rabid Lycan.]

Maybe the sky's falling out around the babies
Maybe the world is going to spin out of control
I don't care anymore
What if I quit today working for the man
Who said I have another, well, maybe I can
It’s all gonna end anyway

Gorse clawed at his ankles, and it had started to rain.
It was all just one step in front of the other, wasn’t it? Each footfall carrying him away, further and further, from the pack wolf he called home; from that distant childhood way back beyond the mountains, buried haphazardly under some mountainous corpse. Each movement of his paws numbed him further to the sensations of the world. Soon, he would forget to breathe.
Not that it particularly mattered at the moment. As far as he was concerned, one sole goal filled his lungs with purpose.
Damn you all. Where did you take my daughters?
Another flash, his eyes reflexively shielded under curtaining lids. An emptiness boiled in his chest, like a pit, wounded and guilty in all the same emotion. Somewhere off in the distance, he heard a battle cry, and his pace increased. The concentration of scents was growing more pungent, and he barreled straight toward the source.
Earlier, he had returned to the Destinian nest, having been preoccupied with a lengthy walk and a halfhearted hunt. The pups, they wailed—Euphrates effectively tore apart the Healer’s den in futile pursuit of catching their invisible foe. But, as he was quick to realize, the foe was not invisible—how did I not see this coming? No, worse, I did see it coming. I just let it happen anyway…
Without speaking a word to anyone, not even Fireflight who had yet to return, he rushed from the camp in a determined mess. There was war on their hands—he knew that without even Milly’s corpse to support his suspicions. But he had no desire to indulge in the blood of the family he couldn’t kill, or to watch Fireflight throw herself headlong into the fray. It pained him—…such a coward…—but he knew that the only answer would be to prohibit Fireflight from participation. Or kill Assyria, neither of which he could not do.
Please… don’t die…
Forcing the dark thoughts from his mind seemed to be his only option. Fortunately, the Blood Mist wolves seemed to all be eager for war, clearing the path for him to sneak around and into the territory. Although it was a long path, he was growing near, only mildly surprised that he did not come across any guards. But for the moment, the camp was not of Blood Mist concern—why should it be? If they packs even figured out its location, they would still need a fight—and, worse, they would be pinned within the walls of the camp. Useless for waging such a massive war. But perfect for storing captives…
True enough, he had no idea if Assyria had thought to store the pups at Blood Mist headquarters, but it seemed worth the attempt. Anything was worth the attempt. I’m getting my children back, one way or another. I’ll burn down this whole forest if I have to. To his amazement, the entrance actually came into view, and the male managed to force his pace slower. His pulse still beat like a drum, in sync with the periodic roars of the clouds, as he took his first steps.
But although the vast majority of Blood Mist had vanished in macabre pursuit, it would seem a rare one or two had remained behind. Either that, or they were late to war, because as soon as the Destinian made his arrival, a heavy weight knocked him onto his side.
“Oso…” A snarl. “Get out of my way.”
Not recognizing his former packmate, Oso charged again, and the two locked jaws.

Elsewhere, a decaying leaf lie in the center of the Moon Dens. From the vacant hole in the ceiling, the dripping of water pitter-pattered along the cavern floor, and only a single body remained to listen to its tapping rhythm. A young male stared, his beige coat shifting as a sigh exited his muzzle, and his eyes silently traced the dampened leaf. Slowly, he reached out a foreleg, and pawed at it. Figures that Sumer would select to abstain from battle.
He shifted his head, a forlorn overcast to his face. Pitter-patter.
”Get out of my way.”
Sumer snapped his head up, ears erect. It can’t be…?
The wolf padded from his nest, and stared in complete awe at the familiar sight. But the dropped stone in his stomach killed his spirits.
Silently, Sumer latched onto Oso, who hissed and tried to land a swipe to the interfering Proeliator. “You runt, get off of—”

Tell me doctor, what’s the cure, for the wicked mans blue's
Fly Dragonfly
Fly Dragonfly
Fly Dragonfly
Fly Dragonfly

[Sivoncé™]

She didn't understand.
She was their queen, so why had they all left her alone? Without her, they were nothing but foolish, worthless whelps who would run rampant without purpose through the valley. They'd be easier to defeat, disorganized, take care of one by one until eventually, even immortality would give up on them.
But they were organized.
Barely a single wolf was left but herself. Even Assyria was gone. She heard voices outside the den, but she didn't care to see who remained. And, clearly, these voices didn't think much of the solitude. It seemed normal to them. Planned, even.
Sounds of a scuffle came from the camp.
Slowly, eyes hard and body stiff, she rose and padded from the darkness of her den.
Euphrates.
The sight shocked her. But what shocked her even more was what they were doing, and the wolf that was helping him. For a ghastly moment, Babylonia contemplated the fall of her empire.
I'm going to hell, aren't I?
"Enough! Oso, don't you have somewhere else to be?"

[.Rabid Lycan.]

Abruptly, the violent efforts relaxed against his skull, and Euphrates managed to retreat from the assault. The three stood separate, but only one rose his eyes to face his leader—Oso. There was a hesitance, every instinct screaming for him to toss the intruder not only from the camp, but from the living realm. But the hardwired spur of respect for the legendary Alphess forced a nod from his head, although it was a reluctant one. But he made no movement to apologize, and simply padded from toward the entrance with the limp that restricted him from battle.
Thus, the others were left with an ocean of awkward quiet. Euphrates, rather than seizing Babylonia in his sights, found himself intently studying Sumer. Hurt gleamed in his eyes, as with a hollow disappointment. The younger sibling could not meet his gaze at all, eyes downcast and his frame shifting to a stand. Sumer’s paws carried him in a slow retreat toward the entrance of the dens, slumping to a defeated sit.
Then, at last, Euphrates managed to drink in the sight of the matriarch for the first time in ages. Needless to say, he was a tad surprised at what he discovered.
Her scars…
“…hello, Mom,” he murmured. Mom. The word tasted bitter on his tongue, but not in the typical repulsion—it tasted more of dryness, as if he had forgotten how to pronounce it. It had been so long, and she had been a demon, a tyrant—never mother. Not since then, and atrophy had worn on his jaws.
…enough. The children. She must’ve been in on it.
“…the Blood Mist wolves have abducted two pups from the Destinian pack. I’ve come to retrieve them—where are they?”

[Sivoncé™]

Babylonia blinked back at her son with a blank, waxy stare. His prescence here, and Sumer's, was strangely surreal to her. For a moment, she just sat back on her paws and looked between the two of them with a small, barely visible upward curve to her lips. And then, of course, the accusation started. Mild hurt crossed the queen's features, and then gradual resignation.
"Really? They abducted pups? Say, where are they right now, do you know?" A bitter edge seeped into her tone at the end. She tilted her head at Euphrates, lips pursed in what very well could've been disapproval.
"The only pups here, Euphrates, would be your two brothers and sisters. But they don't know you, now do they? And you most certainly do not know them."
There was a change in her with the power to shock.
Her harshness and underlying ferocity were for her children, and nothing else.
You never understood me very well, did you, my son? You always thought I was so hateful. You never realized that all along, it was love that powered me. The line between the two is fine and easy to cross. It is so blurred at times, that what one sees as hate may still be done out of love.
"Whose pups were they, anyway?"

[.Rabid Lycan.]

Coldness. Somehow, even with his years of hatred—and even with his recent recognition that it had been a false hatred—he had not been prepared for it. Maybe not quite coldness, but bitterness. But some realm of his body was mildly wounded all the same.
Isis. Cleopatra.
He opened his maw to speak, but realization shot down all retort. For the moment, his defenses clattered to the ground, and he forfeited his air of business to stare past Babylonia, toward the den she had wandered out of.
“ The only pups here, Euphrates, would be your two brothers and sisters.”
He had not known, not realized. And an odd, conflicted emotion swelled in his veins, pressuring uncomfortably on his heart and head. But he couldn’t place it. A minute ticked passed, and his head fell in a slight incline.
Another litter… she was never a part of this…
He could lie to his mother—she had no idea that Fireflight had pups. But then again, what good would it do? Assyria already knew, and that’s why they were stolen. And even so, Babylonia would never hurt the pups. He felt it, clinging to that certainty.
“They stole my two beautiful daughters.”
A tumbleweed could come rolling by.
“Congratulations. You’re a grandmother.”

[Sivoncé™]

Babylonia's eyes widened in horror, mouth slightly agape.
A whisper fell from her tongue.
"Oh my god....."
Her world was spinning, and she could do nothing but try and fight the dizziness and nausea and stay conscious while it stormed down upon her. There's a battle, then, that's where they all are. There was little doubt in her mind who was leading it -- the only wolf other than herself who had the ability to do such a thing, if she herself even had that talent anymore. It had been her obsession at first, and then it had passed down to her one faithful child, the one who had always looked up to her mother to lead the way. And she had.
And now Assyria was lost to her, too.
"Euphrates, I--"
"INTRUDERS!"
Wily Ishtar, pelting from her den, sprang straight at Euphrates with tiny claws and fangs bared.

[.Rabid Lycan.]

He waited for a reaction, but received an Ishtar instead.
There was a halfhearted attempt to block the blow, with a tiny step back and his foreleg lifting as a shield, but he made no move to remove the pup that proceeded to burrow his fangs into his arm. There was a sharpness to the assault, despite his size and strength, though it wasn’t quite a physical pain. The pup began to draw a trickle of blood.
“…looks like my Isis…” he murmured softly. A twitch of his lips, the smallest of movements, aimed northward for a brief moment. His mate was probably dying, and his pups were frightened out of their minds, and he almost smiled.
He scanned his tired eyes over the pup, and towards the den. There, he could see other heads rousing, searching for the source of the ruckus. Sargon looked like he was preparing to charge as well. Let them come. He could not raise a paw to Assyria; how could he be expected to raise a paw to the younglings?
“…four, you said…”

[Sivoncé™]

Momentary surprise passed her features at the appearence of her pups. Misery suddenly threatened to overwhlem her, rising overhead like a tidal wave. So much pain, so much of it, all ready to tear her apart. For only the second time in her life, tears fell freely from the crystal-blue eyes that were typically emprisoned in permafrost. The flood came.
"I loved him Euphrates! I loved your father with everything I had! What was I supposed to do, ignore it? Pretend it didn't exist? Tell a Grey Mist I loved them even though my heart would always belong with someone else? I could've had anyone I wanted, I mean anyone! But I didn't want them, I was picky, it had to be him. So I left, I did. I turned my back on my old way of life because I loved him. And maybe no one believes it because they say I changed so much from when I was a girl, but he loved me too! If it was Fireflight, what would you have done? What have you done? You left your home of your own accord, but it's her that truly stopped you from ever coming back. And if I hadn't left, I wouldn't have had my beautfiul angels, my children, my loves! I cannot regret it. I know the pain I have caused those around me, and myself, and I cannot regret it....."
Ishtar, at the sight of her mothers tears, ceased her assault on Euphrates and looked up at her mother with wide, confused eyes. Lips trembling, she ran to Babylonia's side and buried her nose in her mother's fur.
"Momma, what's wrong with your eyes?"
Babylonia chuckled -- a forced sound, and shushed her. "Nothing, love, nothing at all."
Suddenly, the tears ceased.
"...Isis...." she whispered softly. "That is the most....most beautiful name..." Looking down at her beloved children, Sargon and Ishtar, Babylonia was able to clear her throat and speak clearly. Out of the corner of her eye, she blinked towards Sumer, somewhat pleadingly.
"They are Sargon and Ishtar, and the others are Uruk and Phoenicia." With fascinated eyes, she turned to Euphrates. "And yours?"

[.Rabid Lycan.]

Euphrates had to force his ears from flattening against his head, every tearful word drifting into his mind. He took moments of silence to process, the stinging in his leg suddenly relieved as Ishtar, along with Sargon, took to comforting their mother. In a quiet voice, he managed a reply.
“You have three grandsons and three granddaughters.” For the brief moments, his eyes brightened up, with a touch of pride. “The boys are Akenaten, Ramses, and Imhotep, and the girls are Hatshepsut, Cleopatra, and Isis.”
It was a short-lived period of joy, however. Her speech, he couldn’t just ignore it. Not like he tried to ignore the shape of Sumer watching them cautiously from the corner, unable to bring himself to move any which direction. But Euphrates had a reply—something that had burned in his chest ceaselessly since the resurrection. Or possibly before, but he hadn’t realized it.
“Mom, I… I tried to hate you for a long time. At first, I wasn’t very good at it—in the very beginning, actually, I was preparing to come back, even after you died. But I stayed. And the longer I stayed, after Verlust disappeared, the easier it was to convince others, convince myself, that I loathed you with every fiber of my body. I found Fireflight—that’s all I would ever need.” He breathed deeply. “But then everyone came back, and Assyria—Sumer, too, when he left the Destinians—forced me to realize something. I… don’t hate you. You’re right—if it wasn’t for Fireflight, I not only don’t have a reason to stay with the Destinians, I don’t have a desire to stay with them. Honestly, I… don’t really care about packs or Blood Mist anymore.”
His eyes were diverted, growing unfocused. There was a dampness to him, and the regular strength in which he spoke began its deterioration.
“…Mom, I don’t blame you… at all. If you were a Siverian joining Blood Mist for love, that would be okay. If you were Blood Mist joining the Destinians for love, that would be okay. I understand it. I… I’m a traitor to Assyria. To my family. I know that. But…” He exhaled sharply, desperation in his voice. He cast off any remnants of formality, and left his true emotions to convey his bidding. His pleading. “But I can’t live without Fireflight, or the rest of my family. They make me happy… just happy! And I hate fighting, and I don’t want to fight anymore—and I know I can’t change that. But, I… just… please. Please don’t take her away from me.”

[Sivoncé™]

Something was stirring inside of the scarred she-wolf. She looked up at Euphrates with an epiphany in her eyes, and a grave, solemn one at that. There was a brief, loving smile as he named her other grandchildren, but it was short-lived. What she had to say required sincerity, and deep thought. But she knew it had to be done.
"Euphrates...I have a favor to ask of you. I want you to take your brothers and sisters back to the Destinians. I wish to come as well. And for this to happen, several things need to be done."
Her heart was racing in her chest.
Leave Blood Mist? Go back to the pack she'd loathed for so long? Loathed might be right, jealous might be right, but she'd never truly hated it.
"Assyria needs to die today. She can't know that I did this of my own accord or it will break the last hold she has to her sanity. I can be a prisoner of war, and your pack can keep me as such. But I want my children raised away from here, as Destinians. I don't care to earn the title of Destinian for myself, like I said, keep me as a prisoner of war. My limbs are frail and weak, anyway. I'd be nothing but a senior, never a warrior again. And it has to remain an absolute secret that I am in your camp. None of the other packs can know -- because Assyria can never know."

[.Rabid Lycan.]

That was…
‘Unexpected’ wasn’t the right word for it. Nor was ‘shocking’, though it was getting warmer. It was insane. Wonderfully, wonderfully insane. How long had it been since he’d had his mother in so close a grasp? It had never occurred to him that he could be reunited with both families, however incomplete, without sacrificing one or another.
And yet, he realized, there was still a price to be paid. So… Assyria takes the hit again…
The heaviness of guilt gnawed at this stomach, but he banished the considerations from mind. He couldn’t do anything to help it now—and on the other hand, he didn’t want to speak of anything that could potentially change his mother’s mind.
But how to make it work?
“…I… okay.” A more confident nod strengthened his speech. “Okay. But what should we tell the pups?” he swept his eyes over his siblings, making his way to Babylonia’s eyes. My children, too, if they’re going to be staying together. Are they related? Are they just captured pups? Are you even their mother when I bring you as a prisoner? “And how is… about Assyria…”
He slipped into a quiet, and another thought churned uncomfortably in his chest.
“…and what about Isis and Cleo…?”

[Sivoncé™]

Strangely, the queen had not been thinking about or planning this at all, but as soon as her eldest son voiced his concerns, she had a plausible solution. Blinking towards Sumer again, her eyes grews saw and apologetic. Slowly, she began to speak.
"They are young, Euphrates, and with time and patience, they will grow to understand and maybe even be thankful they were taken from here. Things are changing, and they are far beyond my control. If it was a case of me being able to return my grandchildren to their home, I would. But Assyria, though she still loves me as her mother, does not trust me. She has put me out of power, and until now, I didn't even realize how much she has taken over. She planned an entire battle without my knowledge. But...Sumer. She trusts you. I know I'm terrible for asking, but I fear you may be our only hope. Even if she presented them to me, she would never give me enough information to know where she's keeping them. Sumer...I think you may be the only one who can get them back."Swallowing hard, tears pooling in her eyes again, she said to them bother, "Assyria is a lost soul. I know why the Hellfirians were brought back. It doesn't take much to figure out, if you think. It's him -- the one the immortal alphas themselves spat upon. Golden Wolf reincarnated us so we could redeem ourselves, Euphrates. I cannot save Assyria from herself, no matter how much I love her."

[.Rabid Lycan.]

Oh, what could go wrong…
Life was never, is never, simple. The games of black and white, of Rorschach vision, had long abandoned them, along with their youth. It was a complicated world, and even now, the gravity of doubt weighed heavy in his chest. But for the sake of his family, or what was left of it, he accepted the burden.
“Well… at least one of you seems to be on the right path.”
It took him great effort to look toward his brother again, but after all the events of today, the challenge was expected. His eyes searched his sibling, a look of pleading entering somewhere in his gaze. Help me, Sumer… please.

Sumer, in turn, was quiet. True enough, he was always silent, but there were certain degrees—for him, even his eyes were silent. Though an adult, he felt small, like a pup again. So fearful. But with the sensation birthed new resolve.
…what, Sumer, are you going to cower inside yourself forever? Here, now, can be your chance to make amends. Yes, you’re a traitor. Yes, you… I love you so much Assyria… but stealing these children…? No… it’s not right… and Mom is asking… I… have to do this. Make them safe.
Slowly, he offered a nod, to which Euphrates seemed to visibly relax a bit. After a moment, Sumer padded up to his mother, and brushed his nose against her pelt. Stay safe, then… I love you.

Euphrates looked on with soft eyes, his gaze muddled somewhat with confusion, before gathering himself to his paws. “Are we… ready to leave?”