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Post by Deleted on Jul 22, 2019 17:54:35 GMT -8
Sitka’s voice softly rang out, tinged with tender concern. Dante smiled, calmly swiveling his head over his shoulder. Her worry was touching, but he wouldn’t have wanted her to fuss over him. There was a sadness in her eyes too — he only hoped that he hadn’t been the cause of it. “Don’t worry about me. I’m okay.” He assured her with a chuckle. It was incredible how smoothly forced laughter fell from his throat. He shifted himself to clear a space for her to sit. “You can lie down if you’d like. I don’t mind.” His eyes held a soft, gentle sheen to them. He meant what he said. Sitka was good welcome company, especially in times like these when he felt horribly lonely. Her time in Lubrusca, though admittedly brief, had been lovely to watch. She was eternally pleasant, amiable, up for candid conversation; how could one not enjoy being around someone as sweet and chatty as she? They’d many a fine talk about children, about Lubrusca, about change and the wonders the future held in store. Now was as good a time as any for another. Perhaps they could both clear their minds of whatever was troubling them. “I like to come here to clear my head.” He admitted once she had stretched out beside him. “It’s really a lovely spot. First place I learned to love in Lubrusca.” He lifted his eyes, taking a moment to admire the glistening boulders. “We’ve moved back to the Commons, and that’s wonderful, but this is what I’ll always consider to be my home. This is where I told Elenor I loved her. This is where my children were born. I couldn’t consider it anything less.” He cocked his head up slightly to allow the wind to ruffle the fur beneath his chin. “I come here to think of them. She was so happy when they were born — she knew she was dying, but it was almost as if it no longer mattered. She was a worrier, always very anxious in our day to day lives, but in that moment, I never saw her more at peace. The pups used to ask for her, and I always wanted to make sure they never wanted for a mother. I hope I succeeded. You never think they’ll grow as fast as they do,” He added wistfully. “One day, you’re the center of their worlds. And the next, you wake up, and they’ve moved on completely. I miss them.” Tagged: Sitka |
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Lubrusca
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None
Female
3 Years
0 Likes
9 Posts
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Post by Sitka on Sept 9, 2019 9:49:35 GMT -8
The guardian watched Dante as he turned to her, stating that everything was okay. But her instincts told her that everything was not. Not with how the male had been acting just prior to her announcing her presence. She looked over him, worry framed in mint eyes as he offered for her to lie down. She was not one to refuse the offer, spending time with the General was always something she had come to enjoy in her short stay in Lubrusca. She took him up on his offer, coming to lie down next to him, haunces titled behind her to relax as she looked down to the water. The frostbitten edges were gone, and the stream rode peacefully through the territory. It seemed to be at a normal height, not risking a flood. The last thing Lubrusca needed was a flood to wipe out more of their territory. After the snow had melted, she had witnessed the terrors that haunted the land. The ashened trees that lay on the ground, withered away by flames of the past. But the commons had started to grow back, finding itself new life among the old as it used the ashes to further grow stronger and larger. The same could be said about Lubrusca. From the ashes of devastation, they had risen and found themselves a new hope in their youth. Lysic had taken up the position of Beta, and was blossoming into a great leader, right alongside his siblings.
Maddox had taken on the herbal route, the enthusiastic ball of fur nothing but fun when he was around. She was sure Snow Rose had her paws full training him, but he would turn out to be a fine Salutary. One that would heal not only wounds, but the hearts of his packmates through his optimistic behavior and caring nature. She was sure that Dante was proud of him, just like he would be of all his children. They were all taking well to their respective fields. Basil becoming a great hunter, Cecilia and Milo becoming amazing scouts, and Nascha taking after his father in becoming a great warrior. Each one had their own weaknesses and strengths, but like their father, they would push through them and becoming an amazing part of the pack.
Ears swiveled a little as she focused in on what Dante was saying. He was talking about their mother, Elenor. A sad smile came to her face. She had passed when the pups were born, but how he described her was something she could never imagine. Sitka could only imagine what kind of wolf she was, she sounded so sweet and caring. It saddened Sitka that she had passed before she had gotten the chance to at least meet her. Sitka and Elenor would have been great friends, or at least that’s what she had thought. But the little butterflies in her stomach that came to life when she talked to the General spoke otherwise. She gave a small nod, mind turning back to her own that she had abandoned. She had done it for their sake. She could not have stayed in that pack with so much on her shoulders. But she could have done more, she could have brought them with her.
As Dante said he missed them, she found herself pressing her shoulder against his. “I know how that is,” She whispered, looking to the ground. “You’ve been a great father to them. They have nothing they don’t have,” She spoke, looking towards him with saddened mint eyes before quickly looking away. “You gave them everything they needed, and I’m sure they will come around once everything isn’t so new and fun. After all, you’re probably the best dad here,” She said with a chuckle.
“I had a few of my own,” She went on, eyes glazing over as she could remember their faces as clear as day. Esmera being a soft pale white, her nose a pink, an oddity that she had never seen. The young one had passed before she could really find her a name, but she had made sure to whisper it to her every night she visited her burial site. Grimm was an oaken brown, almost similar to Dante in color. And Rylan a pitch black. None of them had looked like her, but nobody had questioned her on whether they were hers or not. They simply deemed themselves her children. “I hope they’re doing well, wherever they are now. I found them when they were just a few months old, their mother nowhere to be found. They started calling me mom once they were able to form coherent sentences. I’d never been happier,” Grief washed over her. “But happiness seems to only last for so long.”
@dante
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Post by Deleted on Sept 21, 2019 5:43:52 GMT -8
“I know how that is,” Sitka remarked softly, entrenched in her own hapless thoughts. Sorrel ears swiveled back. Although he couldn’t be certain, Dante felt sure that she was about to reveal something new, securely hidden, and — if the somber, light-eyed sheen to her gaze was any indication — remarkably painful. He listened still, unmoving. “You’ve been a wonderful father to them.” Oh, how desperately he’d hoped that was true! And yet there was doubt; a shadowed, ever-shifting presence that prevented him from ever being fully certain. They’d had lovely childhoods, by all accounts, free from the usual mars of tragedy, death, and disease. Yet had it truly been enough? He’d tried, near all Lubrusca could testify to the fact that he’d tried his absolute hardest to ensure they wanted for nothing at all, but had it been enough? “You gave them everything they needed,” Sitka assured, her voice holding firm confidence. “I’m sure they’ll come around once everything isn’t so new and fun. After all, you’re probably the best dad here.” Dante chuffed softly, warmed by Sitka’s bit of praise. He’d been the only dad for the majority of their upbringing —it truly wasn’t all that fair of a competition, “I had a few of my own,” She began wistfully. There was a sad nostalgia to her tone. Dante understood it wholly, angling his auburn head so he could better hear her tell her tale. “I hope they’re doing well, wherever they are now.” As she spoke, he recalled his pups own infant-hoods. Maddox had been the largest, the fussiest, the most vocal — and endearing. Ventus often remarked on his strength and might, claiming he’d the makings of a marvelous warrior. Ironically, the most rambunctious had settled for a caring salutary career. Milo, on the other hand, had been clumsy, bumbling, and fantastically, sensationally funny. The day that semi-flopped ear straightened had been heartbreaking. Cecilia had always had a taste for adventure, forever pushing the limits, where Basil had been quietly introspective. And Nascha, always thoughtful, had approached life in the same gentle, sensitive manner in which his mother had. There was so much life and personality to witness even from early on, and to be able to watch it grow and develop — it had been nothing short of his greatest joy. He couldn’t have imagined having to part with his own so very soon. He couldn’t have born it. “Happiness only seems to last for so long,” She admitted somberly. Dante nodded. Happiness was eternally elusive, forever fleeting, and in the instances where it was available, it could only truly last so long. There had come Elenor, and with her, love in its purest form. Then afterwards there had been pups, soft and sweet and sensationally perfect. And now as of late there seemed to be Sitka. What she’d brought was something he couldn’t yet completely voice, but he knew he was exceptionally fond of it. A new fondness than the sort he’d felt for El, but fondness nonetheless. She’d a sweet, nurturing quality with all that she met, and he already his children had nothing but the best of praises. And while he’d never been the most brilliant of creatures, even he knew there lay a chance for new happiness here. Yet there was the promise he’d made his children. Yet he still had to ensure they’d all grow up accordingly and well. Yet there was the firm, indisputable fact that he was unsure if he could ever cope with this joy being stripped away. “Thank you,” He began softly, his tone gentle, tender. “You’re much stronger than I. I couldn’t bear the thought—“ He faltered, unable to imagine a world with his children where he hadn’t always been there. “You’re wonderful, Sitka; unselfish, sweet, clever. If we lived in another world, in a different time—“ He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m not thinking very well at all, am I?”
Tagged: Sitka
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