I'm okay,

@Calliope (image made by)

 

The Royal Wisterian Woodland; beautiful and grand, royalty as the name suggests itself. Drenched in auburn hues, the winds call forth it's petals as it blankets the ground in a beauty of grandiose colors. In the occasion one can hear a light thumb from the scattering apples that rotted to the floors, being that the apple orchid blends within the wysterias. A particular sight, though a delectable to the elk who munch on it during the days, and the wolves who decide for a sweet treat. A sight to be for the strolling woman.

It gave a settling calmnes to the growing pregnant Queen, who as days go on, gradually grows more wary. Though her den for her soon to be birth was within the center of Elkshire, she was often found roaming outside of it. Célnes felt a calmness where located, a protection from the very center where the expecting mothers and their fawns were, as she felt a settlement to becoming one of them. Though at times, the Déorwine couldn't deny, a gradual worry was flowing to her regarding.. What was to come ; but she would never admit it.

The thought of being.. Weak disgusted her.

Though nerves may be albeit, wild, she held a calm demeanor. Sophisticated, how the woman believed a Queen should be, a woman with confidence, a stride of pride, and a head held high with a ghostly crown. She was, Célnes. Déorwine.

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+1 Discovery Points

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The poet nosed through the red wisteria leaves hanging before her with wonder. She had never seen such a sight…or had she? In fact, it seemed all she could remember of herself was her name. Calliope. Any time she tried to focus on her past, nothing appeared in her mind. Awoken with a start by the call of crows overhead—perhaps a bad omen—she opened her eyes and found herself in a strange hollow of trees with purple leaves. There was nothing to do but explore and attempt to understand this location.

She tilted her head down, pawing petals and pushing aside a stray apple underfoot curiously as she walked. The soft thud of her paws and the sounds of nature were drowned out by her whirling thoughts. Had she just come into consciousness? How? So few answers came.
She considered calling out for a while, to see if anyone would come, but her instinct warned otherwise. Lost in the beauty of this pastel forest, she began muttering to herself.
“Roses are red, violets are…well, no, that’s the wrong one,” Calliope mused, eyes still on the floor.

It was then a strange scent on the breeze startled her. Yellow eyes flashed upwards upon a large brown figure ahead. Ask for help..? her mind offered, but her body would not move. This one seemed to ooze intimidation, so much so that Calliope didn’t notice the other wolf was pregnant. She searched her thoughts for words to describe such a wolf but, in the moment, had none.

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A beauty to the eye, in delightful dusky browns and a glint of the yellow moon. How much time has it been since she had seen a pure wolf in the wild - though this one was not a cousin. Drenched in browns as she was, a smile upon the Queen's face as she strode toward the other. An obvious look to her as a pumpkin gaze studied the plain walker, so the Deorwine assumes. 

She appeared from nowhere - thin air almost, as most of their kind due. Wisps of no where, some with memories, some without.. Though a curious thought came to be, if the world decided to wisp her own children away. A cautious step, her stomach gradually swelling, only looking a bit plump, but to others still a slimming lady, "My, you seem a bit lost - this is Elkshire territory."

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Calliope regained control enough over her body to lower her tail, in a sign of both wariness and submission. Her ears turned backwards, and she thought over her words carefully. Surely this woman was a leader of some kind, for no one could carry themselves in such a way were they not born into nobility. She brought herself forward, one paw after the other, focusing hard on maintaining her posture.

“Oh, I apologize, I was not aware that this land belonged to anyone,” she said, almost shocked to hear her own voice out loud. It had come out much smoother than the nervous and shaky voice in her head. But she maintained eye contact, somehow, fearing the other wolf would sense the anxiety behind them. “To be truthful, I don’t quite know where or what this land is, though it is so beautiful. Um.. Might there be someone or some way to help me?”

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A plain walker, she assumed rightly, "Do you remember who you are?" is the most classic phrase she tended to say to those of the kind. There was rather two that always appeared, the ones who remembered a past that no longer could be touched.. Some would fall into despair to what they held, realizing that life was no more. Others relished in the fact they are free from the hellish past and are grateful to the new opportunity. She suppose she was a mixture, where while some parts of the past was a reluctant part, the Queen welcomed wholeheartedly the new future that flourished far more then the past had.

"What help do you require? I do not mind an assistant, pray tell, what is your name stranger?" A lure to be, perhaps a recruitment to gain. The other seemed an appropriate, and easy type to entice, as they submitted to the Queen. A devilish smile but welcoming so, she stepped closer to the other, and gently sat down, resting her sore feet.

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Do you remember who you are? the question echoed in Calliope’s mind. She paused for a moment, yellow eyes darkened underneath furrowed brows. Searching through her memories for a piece of history, a shred of evidence that she had existed before waking up in this very forest. There was nothing.
“I’m Calliope, but,” she responded quietly, but it felt more like she was talking to herself, no longer making eye contact with the monarch before her.

Flooded with existential dread, there was one thing Calliope could remember, and she clung to it with clawed paws.

“I’m a poet! I know it, but I can’t quite recall any verses at the moment. I can’t remember anything,” she said, meeting the other wolf’s piercing orange eyes once more, “I don’t know who this Elkshire is, but if you could tell me where we are, and who you are, perhaps I’ll remember again..”

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The same face that most would make, realizing the unfamiliarity that was their own mind. She had seen plenty of wolves pass in these lands, having the same face upon realizing the situation they were in. Though as much as she tried to lend a paw out, a comfort to the lost souls ; not all would accept. The Queen was a curious one, but hopeful in her ways. She wanted this holy wolf, who blushed in brown hues that the High Elk loves within his members and forest. A match made in heaven, to the autumn petals that floated around, beautiful wisteria trees that match their warmth. An apple in the background fell, a glancing notice toward it as a meek doe came forth to nab.

"I am Célnes Déorwine, Queen of Elkshire, a pack who intertwines the elk and deer who live in these forests ; forbidden to touch them. We live in harmony." So she introduced herself, though at the moment her appearance may not be as grand as she was, with a slight pudge in her stomach, and noticeable teats standing out from her dark, brown fur. She held a high head, an invisible crown with a delightful smile to the now poet. Faintly reminded her of a cousin that was no longer here..

"Perhaps you could make a poem out us." A slight tease and a chuckle, a welcoming tone to Calliope, and a slow inch toward an invitation.

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Turning her head, Calliope watched as the doe reached for the stray apple that had landed in the red petal floor with interest as the queen spoke.

”Célnes Déorwine,” she repeated, testing out the name, in awe of the fact that a real queen lie before her. Had she ever met a queen before? Calliope wondered. She shifted the weight on her paws anxiously and turned to look back at the Célnes.

Already she could feel words rising to the back of her mind to describe the majesty and wonder of this red forest, dotted with orchids and covered in wisteria. And a verse to describe the queen she had found within.
“In all honesty I would,” she said with a embarrassed smile, ducking her head down.

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"If the poem is well enough, an entry pass can be granted.. An invitation to join Elkshire." Musing so, the Queen settled her body down alongst with sore paws. She wondered if it was a side-effect of this pregnancy, feeling rather.. Tired, and lethargic at quite a few times. A steadiness in pace, she started to adjust to taking more breaks on a daily patrolling or casual walking, and wondered if anymore of these plain walkers would appear during her pregnancy.

"I wonder what poetic words you shall twine." She crossed her paws with a patient smile, a tail slightly tapping to the ground to offer the woman to join her so. It had been some time to simply take in a conversation ; without the politics and the crown she needed to carry in tone and soul. Sometimes even she needed to relax.

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”Entry?” Calliope said softly. Such an invitation was unexpected. What use did this queen have for an amnesiac poet? But this was a new, strange world, and she’d need help and friends to navigate it.

She took Célnes’ invitation and lie down next to her. But Calliope was anything but at rest; her legs remained tense, as if she were prepared to run at any second. If the poem is well enough, an entry pass can be granted, the words echoed through her mind.

”Awoken in a crimson forest
I did lie among the petals.
A doe, and a wolf
upon red grass settled.

Entwined is their history,
yet to me unknown.
What should be rivalry
instead an alliance grown.”

Calliope spoke softly and sheepishly turned away from the queen. In theory, this could be the first poem she’d ever spoken.. it was at least the first one she could remember.

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"I had a cousin who spoke of whimsical poems. I have not seen him for quite some time.. It is nice, to remember." Though at times, the Déorwine dreads her family, she couldn't deny missing the comfort of them around. Her cousin of poetry in particular did not care of the politics that came, and was more tame compared to the rest - a jester to the court, just as she is now. She closed her eyes, a gentle breeze whispering through the woodland - a poem being said.

When all was done, she opened her pumpkin eyes and looked at Calliope, "Welcome to Elkshire."

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Calliope’s eyes brightened. She didn’t know of the queen’s cousin, but it seemed her poem had satisfied some memory of him. She smiled and her expression softened for a moment, as her heart yearned for some sort of memory, or connection, she could have to this world. But nothing came.

Welcome to Elkshire. This, she supposed, was her connection.

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