Getting on in the world

Note that I'm specifically looking for a thread with someone who knew Mal in the past -- didn't have to be his bestest bud and know everything about him, just know who he was, etc. If it's been up for like a week or something and nobody's joined then ok, have at it.

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It was starting to make him anxious -- not a twig nor a pebble had looked familiar, let alone a tree or a forest or a mountain. Where was something he knew? How far had he gone? How did he find the people he was looking for? He could very well be traveling the wrong direction, going farther and farther from the place he should be. He felt that people would be worried, wouldn't they? So far, no answers. Nothing bringing clarity.

It was probably because of this that instead of going around a thick patch of forest, he was opting to barge straight through, a noisy escapade, cracking of small branches and rustling of leaves. A thicket wasn't a hindrance. Sort of. The branches raked through his fur, and bits of leaves clung to him. It gave him a ragged look, but looking into his eyes probably would have echoed the chaos. But staying put wasn't going to get him the answers he wanted. They had to be somewhere else. Somewhere. He'd keep looking for the familiar.
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He had turned to the north, leaving behind the meadow and the sloping features of Empyrean’s higher climes for the lowlands and foothills beyond. Dirge hadn’t done much ranging out this way, not since he had encountered Nyx out there, and once again he had felt the all too familiar pull to venture forth.

It was relatively easy to do at any rate—they were still learning what they could about their surroundings, bit by bit, and it was not a feat to contrive a reason to satisfy his own desires to do so. Spring was in a much fuller swing in these parts, though the air still held onto its chilly tinges and frosty mornings.

Deep down in a valley between minute ranges, he too had entered the thicket and began to suss out what it had to offer. He had made note of game trails along the way, of which there seemed to be no short supply of, and could not help but set his sights on the timber. It was not an entirely traveled path that held him in, nor was it long before he heard the thrashing movement of someone who faced more than half of the difficulties he had nestling his way into the interior of the woodland.

When he laid eyes on him, Dirge was once again surprised.

“Mal,” he called out, only to hold his tongue. He couldn’t ask him what he was doing there—it seemed pretty obvious. Just as obvious as the fact that he too was there, and it only pulled at the strings of a mystery that seemed impossible to unravel.
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Except finally breaking free of the underbrush and into clear air again it was quickly clear he wasn't alone. Some other guy was here, far more ordinarily-hued than himself. In that second where he was busy untangling himself from the brush and trying to figure out whether this dude was friend or foe, there was a single word: 'Mal.' It almost echoed. 

Click.
A single piece of an ongoing riddle. 

The wolf that stood before him was linked with a hazy memory. Maybe two. Three would have been pushing it. Muffled conversations as if heard through a wall. For now, he couldn't pick out any details. Mal was frozen there a moment then finally shifted uncertainly. “Who are you?” He was hesitant, seeming almost ready to bolt if he had to, yet at the same time curious because of what wasn't so easily reachable: answers. Mal needed them, but at the same time knew he was at a disadvantage. On the bright side, the guy hadn't eaten him. They had probably talked before but it wasn't like there was some natural desire to run up and give him a hug or something.
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The look he received was not one of recognition. It was the same sort of look he had recalled in Alya’s eyes when she had turned up among them on the mountain; perhaps it was for the best that Mal did not immediately parse two and two together and remember him. It wasn’t like the nature of their relationship was entirely civil, but he didn't recall them trying to tear out each other's throats.

“I’m a friend,” he said at first, gently; “you don’t remember? I’m Dirge, Hydra’s mate. Your pack was our neighbor,” he went on, keeping it simple even if it didn’t exactly paint him as entirely trustworthy. Too much would be overwhelming, he thought, and that was the last thing he wanted to do when it was beyond apparent that Mal was not having a very good day.

But at least he didn’t look any worse for wear.
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His ears had folded back slightly. The names didn't really mean too much. Maybe he'd heard them before, but he wasn't putting a face to Hydra -- Dirge had the advantage of being right there in front of him and he still hadn't cleared the fog in his mind. Hydra might as well still be some mythic beast. Maybe he did know a Hydra. He couldn't be sure.

Mal was quiet and after a brief pause shook his head slowly. “I don't remember anything.” Which was what made it all so dangerous. He knew when things were not familiar, but would he know for sure if something should be? He didn't recognize this Dirge dude. So.. Maybe not. But then again, wouldn't he have been like.. offended or something if they were good friends and Mal just couldn't remember? He wasn't sure what to make of it. He didn't like being in the lesser position that this put him in.
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A grim line set along his features as Mal mentioned not remembering anything—Dirge couldn’t decide if that was for the better or the worse, given the last about of circumstances he recalled them both being involved in. But he could imagine how disorienting, how terrifying things must have been to a degree. Waking up where he had certainly was an altering experience, but at least his memory had been intact.

Mostly.

“Well, you’re not alone in that,” he confessed, “there are things I’m not so sure about either. Like how we came to be here, but I suppose that hardly matters now. Are you injured in any way?” He couldn’t see anything, couldn’t smell anything on the air that suggested that Mal was anything other than healthy and alive. But that didn’t mean something wasn’t off and it was the least he could do to try and sort what he could take care of.
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Where even was here? Unfamiliar. Not where he was supposed to be. But more were that way? What did it really mean? But then Dirge asked him if Mal was ok. For a moment, it jarred him out of thought. But really, it was just out of one and into another and only for a moment at that. A pause. “No.” Nothing bothered him. He was fine as far as he knew -- all his troubles were internal.

Mal had kind of stalled out, honestly. He just stood there. Pause. Blink. He wasn't sure what to do, nor was he sure that Dirge was really one to ask. Again, Mal couldn't remember him, and even his own description of their relationship wasn't exactly close. But when much was just a vague emptiness and a few blurry feelings that people and places were missing, what was he supposed to do?
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It was evident that Mal presently was a husk of whomever he had been before. It was a strange thing to witness; unnerving, considering the spitfire that he remember broiling within the younger wolf. It was a sensation that Dirge could not quite fathom, let alone entirely remember if he had ever at all felt that way in the waking moments that had followed his own arrival to this new world and its strangeness.

The solitary word off of Mal’s lips only further a stretch of silence between them—he had hoped for something more to go on, a piece that might have unlocked or unraveled the mysteries that he could not determine for himself. Even questions would have furthered things, but he knew from the dazed look set on and about him that they would not come immediately. If they did at all.

“If you’re thirsty, I know there’s a stream nearby,” he decided to offer. “Perhaps I can fill in things that I remember, if you’d like.” It seemed worth a shot to try, believing that maybe it would jog his memory, or knock something loose that would crumble whatever mental lock seemed to be wrapped around him so.
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Yeah Mal was a little bit useless right now. But at least he had a word, a name. It was better than before. But he still felt so far out of place -- that none of this was right, and from the sound of things that was something everyone agreed on. Just for him it was far more enhanced due to all of it being a mystery -- like how would he know what's right? He had lost his purpose in the most literal way of the words. Where was it? How did he find it again?

But Dirge was the one who broke the silence. Mal still wasn't the fastest at replying. He was quiet, he thought about it for a moment or two before his uncertain response arrived, “That... That would be good. I think.” He wasn't sure. But it was better than standing around. He needed the holes in his soul repaired one way or another. He'd take whatever Dirge would offer. Would it strike a similar chord? He wasn't sure. But he took like two not-huge steps forward. Dirge could leave the way.
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With a gesture for the mottled wolf to follow him, Dirge turned back the way he had come. He knew a water source to be not too far off if only because he had crossed by it on his way out there to the present; he moved at a leisurely pace so that Mal could keep up on the off chance that something was still a bit off with him.

Which left trying to determine how best to explain their situation… something that Dirge wasn’t entirely sure he himself understood completely. Trying to figure out how to make it make sense was another beast altogether when he hardly knew how to explain it to himself and truth be told, there was plenty that he had simply pushed out of sight and mind for sanity’s sake.

“No one really knows how they ended up here,” he began, “Or why. All I remember before I awoke here was being at home, on Moonspear. You were from Neverwinter Forest, our neighbor to the north.” He didn’t know what Mal did remember, so it seemed fair just to tell it all to him. “We’ve been here a few weeks now, setting up in the mountains to the south. We being my wife and I, and our family. We still haven’t found everyone.”

That was another can of worms springing open—if it could have been an audible sound, it would have been a pop! He had no idea if he would ever see all of them reunited again and in the time that had passed, it seemed less and less likely that he would. Whatever had tethered them together, while perhaps not severed, was certainly a long, long string stretched out and disappearing over its own event horizon.

His brow knit together then, trying to recall more.

There had been plenty going on, the surface tension of negative emotion still prevalent in his recollection albeit in a haze; it was thick like smoke, choking, and he felt the tingling rush across his back that came before the split second scald of a burn.

“I think,” he said, halting, damn near haunted and absent, “maybe just before we woke here, we were involved with something going on. Someone, or multiple someones. Another pack, on the other side of the mountain from us. It’s hazy, and even I have gaps that I discover I don’t recall fully.” He shook his head, glancing over his shoulder to find the bi-colored eyes of Mal.

“Any of it seem familiar? It’s been a bit much. Still is.”
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It was somewhat concerning that it seemed to have messed up everyone. What had happened to them all? It was... Not great. How would he be able to find his home? The people he needed to find? What if they didn't recognize each other? Either way, he followed along after Dirge, his steps light, careful. Uncomfortable with the world at large. He stayed quiet, let a small delay pass before answering. “I know that the places I've been that are forests, none of them are the place I should be.” But he really hadn't been too far at this point. It was a strange land, that much was clear. Surely if he was back wherever he should have been from, he would have found something familiar by now... Right? 

“There are people I need to find.” That part was certain. Note that he didn't exactly specify. He let that kind of hang in the air a bit, then added to confirm, “I don't know how to find them.” That could be anyone. Just not Dirge. He was sure Dirge was not someone he needed to find. “And I don't know much else. But maybe.” It might explain why he was distressed about everything? It was hard to say that his worry was about something concrete or if he was just freaking out looking for the familiar. Maybe both.
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“You might find them here,” he said, trying to seem hopeful. “We’ve found many of our own here, so it seems likely you’ll have the same luck if nothing else.” The odds seemed favorable, though he could only imagine how many Mal had to find. He had been at the head of his own pack, after all, and Neverwinter had not seemed particularly lacking in numbers as best as Dirge could remember.

That was, of course, provided any of them had been pulled into this place.

“We’ve set up our own claim in the mountains a bit further south than here,” he went on. “If you ever need somewhere safe to be, even to rest or find food or search with you, we’d be more than happy to help. The stream’s just a bit further from here too. So far we’ve discovered a couple of other packs that have formed—one in the west by the coast, another to the south across the river from our own claim.”

It was all loose information and he knew it, but it was a start.

It was more than he had when he had come to there.
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Mal attempted optimism. “I hope they're here and safe.” It didn't sound like he believed it. He wanted to believe it but just couldn't bring himself to do it for real. It was past shadows that he didn't understand, that he couldn't remember. Even here, it poisoned him. Then layer all the certainty on top and that this was what he was left with.

He nodded a little at the offer, but it was one he definitely couldn't take at the moment. He wasn't a good wolf to keep around in this state. “This is all just... I don't know. Too much. Too little.” A sigh. “None of this is right.” Could Dirge disagree? Mal suspected not. This was some weird unfamiliar land that had messed with people's minds. It was immensely frustrating and the more that he thought about it, the more it spiraled around him, getting worse. His ears folded back on his skull. “But I'm supposed to live with this, either way?” Wrong lands, no memories. It was cruel. He wanted to be whole not this weird fractured soul of a wolf.
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None of this is right.

It struck home, that one line. He breathed outward at it—he too, had felt that way perhaps more often than he had cared to count. It came for him like a thief in the night, oftentimes when he had been alone; when thoughts invaded and were all consuming as they rifled through anything and everything they could get into.

“You’ll have to, if you intend to live,” he said, the words quiet. He didn’t know how to help him other than hand him information that seemed to be both under and overwhelming. Dirge knew he could help him search, but perhaps not in the way that he would look for his own—he wasn’t even sure he could quite recall who all had even followed him, for that matter. His ears and eyes would stay open all the same for such things, however fruitless they may have been.

The path they were on took a dip then and the stream fell into sight.
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But Dirge had plenty of people he knew, from the sound of it. People he could hopefully rely on. Sure, it might not be everyone, but that was far more people than Mal had. Mal had nothing. Not even himself, really. The more he thought about it the worse it all seemed. Mal wasn't part of Dirge's pack, and he wasn't just going to follow after them just because of his own desperation. He'd just continue to not belong there as well.

He didn't say more then, instead walking down to the water to drink, attempt to clear his mind. The cold water was nice, but it wasn't like it could just wash away any of what he'd learned, what he thought about... 

Done, he turned and took a couple steps back from the water. Mal couldn't really look at him. Instead, he offered a simple, “Sorry.” He was uncertain if he should just leave it at that and excuse himself entirely before he said something else stupid. It wasn't like he had the best casual conversation on a good day, and especially not now.
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Mal went for the water and Dirge let him take point, bringing up the rear quietly as they neared the water’s edge. He let the silence build between them; his gaze wandered over their surroundings for anything out of place before he too drank from the crisp stream that wove through in a narrow band.

He knew it was a lot to take in and couldn’t quite fathom what it was that his counterpart felt. He wasn’t sure that he even wanted to try, even if it was to empathize a bit more. It had been disorienting enough to wake up alone in a place he didn’t recognize, to initially not have anything of particular substance to chain together to explain the hows and whys[/i].

Dirge had plenty of those still, though now with more substance. Only there wasn’t anything concrete to provide an explanation and often he wondered if he would ever have one. How could he explain to his children what had happened, or why they were all so scattered or missing? To his wife? Forget trying to explain it to himself—he could live with the shortcoming of not knowing with time, but could they?

Mal’s voice made him withdraw, both from the introspection as well from the water’s edge. With his gaze rounding on him once more, Dirge shook his head gently and spoke: “Apologies aren’t needed. I only wish I had more of an answer to give to you, but instead all I have to give are options. It’s taken time, but your luck is about the same as our own, so the odds are favorable that you’ll find who you’re looking for.”

Or so he hoped.
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The problem was, it was Mal. “I'm not sure I have the faith for that actually being reality. I don't know why.” Mal was a wolf who had been through a lot. And Dirge probably didn't know all of it, just hints of the worst. Assuming he remembered those fine details. But if he couldn't remember finer details of whoever had been a danger to them all, Mal found it unlikely he had a good explanation for this cloud of negativity.

It felt like now he was just caught in a bit of a loop. And the more it repeated, the darker he felt. He didn't want to drag anyone down with him. “I should let you go. Thanks.” But he waited a moment instead of just sprinting off right then -- he'd wait and be polite before going off to feel sorry for himself. He'd gotten a few pieces of himself back, but there was just so much more. It was too overwhelming.
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At his core, Mal was still very much Mal; what Dirge did remember of him was a cloaking sorrow that was bitter, though here it seemed tempered. No, not tempered—muddied. He expected this in a way because the world he had awoken in was a discordant place. It made little sense, perhaps a bleak place if not for the few strands of hope they clung to… or let the wind snatch from their grasp.

And then before he knew it, Mal uttered something else in parting and was gone off across the terrain like a hare loosened from a warren. Dirge did nothing more than watch him go, delving into his own thoughts; he wondered if perhaps Mal would be so lucky here where it seemed he had not in the past. The how and why he felt such a feeling he could not quite recall, but knew there was something about their shared past that had given them reason to band together.

No matter—he decided to return to Empyrean rather than stay his course.

All of this he would share with Hydra out of necessity.
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