What Comes Next...

[*Jelkia]

For the fourth time in the same night Tia found herself sitting and staring at the folded parchment laying on the ornate writing desk. For the fourth time she allowed her gaze shift away from the parchment and idly inspect the desk on which it rested. The ornate furniture of the room she had been given in Hindel's castle brought on a mild nostalgia. Something that was becoming more an more common the longer she remained within its stone walls. Now an then part of the architecture or furniture would bring about faint memories of home. And at the moment such thoughts made for a very pleasant diversion.

For nearly another half hour she had allowed herself to be distracted by various objects in the room and sounds echoing in from beyond the room's door. The hollow echo of sounds carrying along a stone corridor further reinforcing thoughts of home. Not the cozy if quaint den she shared with her mate but of a home before him and before this city existed for her.

Altair... another pleasant diversion. Maybe the best of diversions. Her woof. With all his wonderful flaws an beautiful imperfections. His goofy sense of humor. The only thing beyond the pups growing in her that was truly worth the very dangerous game they were about to play.

Tia did not realize she was smiling at thoughts of her mate until her gaze met the parchment again and she felt it fall away into a near scowl. Too quickly instead of pleasant thoughts she found herself caught between two sudden impulses. The first to violently snatch up the parchment and cast it into the fire. The other to simply stand and walk out of the room never to return.

She ignored both.

A growling sigh rumbled from her as she took the parchment in gloved hands and unfolded it neatly in the center of the writing desk. Avoiding this task was not going to make the necessity of it evaporate. Best to do it quickly now and be done before she found herself distracted again.

Leaning over the desk she reached out to lift one of the inking quills from the desk's provided pots. She examined the tip and then worked at trimming up the nib with a claw. Her writing instructor had always hated when she clawed up his quills and she could almost hear his chiding voice over her shoulder. She felt the smile returning as she almost distracted herself again with pleasant thoughts of the old spirit.

Once the quill tip formed into a somewhat proper shape she dipped it into the ink. It came out dripping and she ended up splotching the first few letters of her message as it scrawled out in an uneven nearly illegible script over the parchment.

Salve Mors

She placed the quill back into the ink and stared at the words on the page silently waiting and watching.

After five heartbeats of mounting tension that the parchment might not work she found herself relieved as the ink appeared to sink into the page. From her perspective it looked as if the page was soaking up the words until they were finally gone.

The page remained empty for almost a minute.

Just as she was about to reach for the quill again to make a second attempt a line of script appeared on the page. Written in a concise and neat calligraphy it remained for nearly the same amount of time as hers had and then likewise settled into the parchment until it dissipated.

The wind blows in what direction?

The expected line of code brought on a chill as the words materialized into existence on the page. She did not hesitate to respond. There was only one right answer and it had nothing to do with directions. She was alone and none were going to interrupt or read the report. Jotting a reply she managed to not waste any more ink on this sending but her writing remained an untamed scrawl.

The wind stands silent.

This time there was even less of a pause and the response appeared on the page as soon as her letters faded.

Report Kargat

Though she had spent the better part of two weeks considering her reply she still finds herself hesitating to respond. She holds back long enough that all of the ink from the quill tip had dripped back into the pot by the time she steeled herself into writing the response she had thought up. Dipping her quill again she replies tersely.

Inform the Rex for me Elzarath. I have all of the information he requires. I will be returning soon. With luck I will return on a feast day. There is much to impart

She watches the words settle into the page and slumps back in her chair. The message at long last was sent. She did not notice the quill falling from her hand until it clattered to the desk. Most of the ink had been spent up in the last sending and the dropped quill only splattered her and the desk with a small amount of glistening black flecks. Despite the weight of her report Tia manages to find another smile within the words of the reply.

I will convey your message to our Rex personally young wolf. And well for it. I will have you know girl... I would consider it a great embarrassment if you reported to another. I would abhor the thought of others believing me inept at teaching students to write. I am not sure if your writing, eating, or killing, causes more of a distasteful mess.

Hurry back to us young one.

The final words of the tirade arrive only as the bulk of the message is already disappearing. She catches them even as they start to sink into obscurity. Lifting her quill for a final reply she can not help but chuckle at the sent words. Dipping the quill she scratches out a final reply with little if any attempt to keep her writing neat on the page.

Ah'll be 'round soon as ah'm able yeh?

She lets the words fade then follows them up quickly with the required sendoff.

Vale Mors

Feeling drained from the short exchange she tosses the quill back into its pot and leans back in her chair. She raises her ink stained hands and runs her fingers through her naturally disheveled silver hair. The streaks of black will be two hells of work to get out later but for now she could care less.

"There..." she mutters into the empty room "It begins."


(( Any otha folks caught up in tha situation er welcome ta post here fore they get togetha later. ))

[*Altair]

More and more in the passing cycles, Altair had found himself returning to the Beastlands. Staring at Noctos, lost in thought, or running himself until he collapsed and passed out from exhaustion. Ever since the wedding, his mind had been ablaze with concern as information, fears, and wild assumptions dashed through his mind. The dark looming specter of a lich once again loomed over him, but this time it was in his dreams. The things he had learned lately...

He didn't trust anyone with this. Luna, he didn't trust himself with this. Telling the wrong people... Well, he knew it wouldn't be good news. Wind rushed past his face, his tongue lolling out as the cool night air whipped past his face. His muscles screamed with exertion, but he paid it no mind. He kept pushing himself, harder, faster. Anything to drive the lingering fears from his mind. This wasn't a foe he could fight directly. This might not be a foe he could fight at all.

Visions of an old foe flashed through his mind. It felt like the time that they had been threatened by the demi-power Kakos Kruphai. That same feeling of impending doom hung over him, but this time there was no clear thread for him to grasp on to. He felt his paw stumble on the lip of a low lying part of the swamp, sending him tumbling to his belly panting. His paws splayed out beneath him, his chest heaving as his lungs strained to keep up with the demand he had been placing on them.

Raising his head to the heavens, Altair let out a long howl. He called out into the midnight sky, baring his hopes, his fears, his worry. Singing until he couldn't sing any longer, praying that Luna would hear the wordless song. That she would protect him again, like she did once a long time ago. That she would protect Kaltia, and their unborn children.

Eventually, he could sing no longer. His voice was hoarse, his limbs burned with overexertion, and he felt like his body was about to fall apart. But none of that mattered right now. What mattered was survival. Everything else came after that. He might not understand much of what he'd been told, not the way that they probably expected him to, but he knew enough.

Altair picked himself up on shaking paws, hauling himself back to Vicissitude looking for all the world like he'd lost a fight. He felt like he very well had. As he passed through the library and climbed the stairs to the room that they were being allowed, he willed his body to change its shape. Opening doors with your mouth was a nightmare he wasn't willing to deal with right now.

He pulled the door to their room open with a little more force than was necessary, letting himself in. With a thud, the door swung shut, as he threw himself on the bed, muzzle buried in the soft sheets. It was only then that he dimly became aware of Kaltia's scent through the waves of exhaustion pressing in upon him. Into the sheets, he mumbled " 'm back, luv."