Your only option is to drink the soda, Margaret.

@Dirge ! ?

---

The sands of time drew thinner on her scale, her reasoning slipping for where she wandered, who she encountered as she wandered, and how she handled herself. Time would draw near for her clock to chime, once more, and she needed to be prepared to spawn once more. Yet as always, her plans derailed. As the Godess of Paradox, there was no opportunity for her to set to motion what she needed accomplished for the assassination. She hadn't even seen the quicksilver bastard dog around the area she had promised Vengeance, so perhaps it was a blessing he did not heed her whims as many before him had. Who was to say her delusional kin hadn't caught wind of her plans, and sent someone for her? She could be being hunted down, and she wouldn't ever know it. Not until she had perished, again.

Her wanderings took her to woods , much further from her blood relatives, and she prowled for a reason to no longer. Hares had thrusted into her path to entice, yet the Witch was in no mood to feed. A mock of ravens laughed her identity to the timbers about them, but she cared nothing for their calls. The Goddess was careless, again. And surely the Celestials had their fun of it. They had to, she seethed in internal vex. Ebony auds flipped to show her displeasure for her thoughts cause, but there was nothing to console her. She needed to start over from step one. She needed to find the boy, and have him slain. However, her womb slandered her idea, another grating roil within the confines of her abdomen forcing her to sway from the motion.

"Ugh," She grunted, annoyed as she heatedly sought a stream, something, anything to relieve herself from the pyre lit within her lower gut. Morning shone the wonders of the bothered woman's hide, the gorgeous flay of auburn and deep reddy browns that streamlined deceitfully through it. Yet she was a burdened beauty, and garnet gaze kept low as she trotted through the path in search for any cooling body of water.
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Not far from the clutches of Empyrean’s domain lied the lust forests that gave way to the riverlands, and they were a place that he frequented from time to time. While the mountain heights certainly gave him vistas to marvel at and plot courses he would or would not take in the future, it felt good to escape the relatively crisp air for more even terrain, though even here in the dense wood it was varied enough to keep his stamina in check.

Though this part of the forest was certainly something to look at.

The weeping trunks were nothing particularly new to him; Dirge had seen many a place in his travels that resembled such things, from rich, deep flowing crimsons to sun-catching shades of amber, and even the sickly appearance of yellow resins clinging to withered woods far more older than he. If anything, he was careful not to push himself into contact with them—the last thing he wanted was to deal with a sticky mess that not even the river could wash out of his coat.

Now the bouts of locust trees and their spindly little thorns here and there, well, those he couldn’t quite avoid. They plucked gently at the tufts of a late summer coat nearly blown out as a cool wind rose to greet him over a hillock, and he could smell the riverway distantly. The riparian forest had a certain stillness to it, a demeanor that would have been off putting if not for the fact that its natural scenery did not begrudge him any, yet even in that stillness he had the sense to know that he was not alone here. Often was the case—birds, bears, other creatures lurked beyond just as any number of his own pack.

He lingered upon the hillock just a moment more, and ventured on.

---

+2 Discovery Points

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Her catalyst begged her to stay a while, to lay and roll in the floor of fallen leaves and lingering flora that grew about her ankles. Being nigh at her wit's end, she stopped, and took a deep breath, trying to hush the voices and sever the strings that wanted to prompt her. She was not to be leaving a trail of herself, and rolling in the flooring would make her inconspicuousity nonexistent. Taking another breath to sit and clean herself, she numbed her mind to the act and allowed her mental fortitude to bolster in the rest.

It began to wane, and thus she stood and shook herself, continuing her travels. Yet the ravens who'd initially croaked their guffaws at her had all vanished. The stillness had become much more pronounced, and she grew wary. Yet the Goddess had enough sense to look about her as she walked, and with it came the sight of another wolf, them elevated by a minor hill and night blending in completely with the wimbers about them, ridiculously fluid roves of hearthy brown layering a sandy dirt beneath. Various ivory flecked them, but the most enchanting piece came from the shield of tragic golds that reflected the sunlight's glare defiantly. She had watched him as he walked about. Rather than letting him pass by, her cursed dulcets rose to meet the hunter.

"I am lost and in need of water- do you know the way?" Garnets loaded the man with a stare that refused to release him. She observes his mannerisms, and witnessed his lack of marking every two feet. 'He must be mated, then- or about some sort of mission,' she mused in bland contempt. The ones who'd previously allow copulation had refused her or given her tasks, and she would not bend the knee to them. This land was a strange one, indeed. Most would have readily mounted her and called it a day. But even so, she was a tricky girl, and would not just be had by anyone. As of now, she had some time left before it WOULD be time, but until then, she had to be wise. "I have crossed no one but you," she confirmed, drawing silently near the tall athlete.
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Not much further, a figure cut from the shadows themselves broke through the natural scenery from a thicker, copse-like band. His gait slowed to a halt as her voice reached out to him; if it had not been for her much more svelte and small nature, he may have mistaken her for another. Not his wife nor her spitting images, but perhaps another—a wisp of a memory from long ago. She seemed travel worn, disoriented perhaps if her build were to mean anything at all… and yet there was something more on the wind that appealed to his nature too.

“You’re not far off from it,” he assured her, gesturing downward along the incline. “I was heading that way myself if you’d care to join me for a spell.” A veiled invitation to guide her; though he may have been a knave at heart, it would not have sat well with him to be cruel and leave her along the wayside. The woodland may have been a strange place, but he knew the river would not be far off—it went on for miles upon miles, and to what end he had yet to discover.
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"Yes," she added a little more to her smooth walk, upping the pace to reach him faster. Her response was short and clipped, wishing she could just teleport wherever she desired rather than laboriously walking there. But her mannerism did not reflect her annoyance, instead seeming appreciative of the guidance. Her voice lowered sweetly, and she passed a sidely glance to him as she had caught up. "Appreciated." The Witch neared him, and was immediately caught off guard by how intense his scent was. It was unbelievably pungent, and she had to regather herself to not stop and stare. Was it her hormones which had increased her senses? Her sense of smell was locked onto him, and she swallowed to distract herself. Zafina had to move a pinch away, ears flaying back and unable to hide her annoyance. Being mortal was something that she was not fond of, and being reborn AS a mortal again was just uncalled for. So long as she steeled herself against it, she should be fine. But he had watched her with those golden irises, which only did nothing more ruthless than to remind her of her former romance, a man who too had those same remarkable golds.

Her lower abdomen lurched again, but she forced herself to ignore it, the wince on her face the only thing able to catch her in her lies.

"What are you doing in this place?" she questioned, trying to keep her mind free of wht she was going through.
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Onward they ventured as he took the natural lead, diverting from his course to head towards lower climes where the waterway would soon take hold; a place where time and the river itself would have worn away at the terrain to create the valley they wandered. It was a gentle sloping, though steeper in places that he avoided to make ease of their journey.

“Me? Exploring, mostly,” he said, almost plainly. Yet he continued to elaborate: “Perhaps out for a bit of adventure to break up the mundane. I enjoy my share of scouting and hunting as well. What of you? Are you a traveler?” She looked the part, but he wondered if she had woke like the rest of them, a stranger in an even stranger place.
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His words seemed honest, pure and mere in suplicity, as he offered her more conversation. It was an opportunity for her to garner more information. "I had been brought to this land against my will," she thrust the subject out, painstakingly aware of how deep her scorn had perforated the smooth edges of her wispy voice. It hollowed out as she had remarked "And now I am alone." The Witch took a breath, gripping each strand of words and plucking them forth. "My spawn had perished in birth, and I had killed myself in woe." The memories had drifted up to greet her, her silent wails as she cuddled the stillborn pups. Her vehemence as she had cursed the Moonspear pack, burying her deceased pups around their territory borders before sealing the hexed ritual with the end of her life.

Yet whatever Celestials had kept their eyes on her found her curse enough of a reason to revive her, and thrust her so readily back into a Heat. To either try again and suffer, or try again and regain what was lost.

"I am looking to reunite with my family, and end my heat with litter." Sinbound garnets slid hell's red lace across Dirge's face, over his body, and over whatever muscle promised her a good time. But she brought the bloody jewels back to their travel path, as she had confirmed already under her breath, her nares telling her everything she needed to know on this subject. "And you are mated."
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To him, it sounded more like she had been stolen from the bowels of some maleficent pit. Or perhaps it was awoken and risen from that of a peaceful slumber where she would never have to know pain again. He couldn’t say or know which, let alone realize or remember that there was shared history between them. It wasn’t the after effects of rising in this new world that had him not recalling—Dirge had simply forgotten that they had potentially known one another in a past life, or that she had cursed them to begin with.

“Your nose is keen,” he commented slyly, the edge of his lip on one side quirking into a here-and-gone smirk. “And lucky for us both that I am not a creature so easily caved in by temptation, lest my wife have both our heads to set on a mantle of stone.” He wasn’t nose-blind by any means, for he had smelled that sweet perfume on the air and about her most likely in the same way she would have picked upon Hydra’s own.

And perhaps had the circumstances been different and she far less rough-hewn and worried by the harsh earth, and he less enamored with his wife and attached to his own high station… she may have had her wish at the satisfaction of his own desires. But Dirge was content with his lot, even in spite of it all, but wait—had she said she had taken her own life?

His gaze craned away from her to look once more through the canopy; he was perplexed then, almost certain he had heard her wrong. He must have. Much in the way that he must have been mistaken that Vengeance had risen from the dead too. Dirge did believe in the improbable, but these feats they spoke of were too fantastical, too… unfathomable.

Perhaps she were like him, embellishing a tale.

“I am sorry to hear of your children,” he went with then, letting his tone soften as he brought his gaze back to the path before them. “Some of my own are missing and I hope not completely lost to the wilderness. They are old enough to fend for themselves, but,” he hesitated. Oversharing wasn’t quite his thing, certainly not being so open with a relative stranger as it were.

“This is a very strange place we have come to in, though I suspect it needs not to be said.”
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Zafina had nothing to show for her pity on his plight. Her words however, gave him some insight to the minds of her Family, the practice she begat into her generations as they lived through it all. "That is unfortunate. To be leashed to one, when temptations do not call for one. My Family are not restricted to one mate. We are respectful of choices made by each other, so long as they are within familial guidance." She offered a somewhat less abrasive run over his face with her red sea gaze, and murmured well enough to sound sincere. "I am sorry you are so unlucky."

Her heart had been run through again as he offered sympathy for her spawn, and she inhaled a hiss that could have sizzled venom. His followup was an attempt to relate, but no male could dare on a woman's birthing pain. "Thank you." Her body had become oddly rigid, and her face momentarily lost such a youthful vibrance. It was a blur, but her indignation had almost made her undone. "How old were they?" the Witch's eyes slid back to the male, Pandora's Box beginning to open ever so slightly within the cockles of her damned heart.

"It is indeed a strange place...I wouldn't want them to be wandering alone in a land like this…"
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They had a difference of opinion, though perhaps better left described as a difference of culture. There had once been a point in his life when temptation may have swayed him, but he had aged considerably since then, and Hydra had become very much a stable point for the better part of his life. What she perceived as unlucky he perceived as luck having nothing to do with it—it was simply the natural cadence of life and the lot that he had made of it—and thus, he did not comment.

The other topic at hand though, he could comment on.

“My youngest are yearlings now,” he began, “and I have confidence that they are well capable of fending for themselves. My eldest who are not among us are old enough to disperse and forge their own lives. Some had, before we wound up here.” A brief wave of nostalgic swept over him, not unlike the burning, crawling feeling he had felt a time or two before. It was hard to think that Osiris and his littermates were that old now, even more difficult at times to recall when they had been so small and defenseless.

Then again, it was hard to see his youngest as old as they were now.

“We’ve been here quite some time, and the lands are bountiful, our neighbors respectful. There are far worse places they—or we—could have ended up I believe.” Places that he did not care to think of, lest he somehow conjured such things into existence. Dirge was at the point in his life were little needed to be explained to him in the subject of how bad could it be.
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This man was completely protected. Untouchable by whatever marinated love he had for his mate, and his children were elders. Nothing she could scruff and steal in the night. And the Witch cursed for it. Internally, of course. "Very well," she offered the man his due as she seemingly relaxed. "It seems you lead a pleasant life. The Celestials must give you an easy one." She ignored another roil of cramp in her belly, as well as the urge to lick herself clean. Be damned her modesty in the face of this man. Should he be so temptless, he could withstand such a volatile scent, couldn't he?

"I hope it stays that way," she lied as she shut the Box for good on his behalf. Zafina couldn't help the jealousy that that threatened to break surface on the fertile loam of her face. All she could do was salt it and hope didn't come forth. "Is the rest place near?" she almost demanded, softening her voice to dull the knifely edge of her impatience. She was in the presence of a man she could do nothing with, who lived a happy life, who was a successful sire and had a currently living mate. Had he been a female, Zafina would have been inconsolably upset, perhaps even lethally so. All odds lined up against her with this man's life. She had imagined a life where she and her brood could grow, and take their place back within the realm of the stars, and not trapped on this foolish plane. The chance she had needed... would it remain here on this planet? Maybe this was another chance to have a fresh beginning? What if the Celestials had felt sorry for her, and deigned her another chance? Would they not place a male before her, as well? Or were they just being cruel, and forcing her to live it all over, again?
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“It’s just ahead, perhaps a few more minutes until we’ll see the river,” he said, sensing her agitation keenly. There was a sharpness to the tension between them, like piano wire stretched taut and ready to catch whatever found its way blindly into its path. It worried at him in the way a tension headache attacked the base of the skull; dull at times and then sharp.

A lesser man would have called it temptation, anticipation.

“And I wouldn’t say that we’ve had a completely pleasant life,” he went on, picking up their conversation again. “There have been plenty of hardships. Some within our control, others well beyond it. Such is life I’ve come to discover. Even I can’t decide if this existence is a blessing or a curse given our circumstances and perhaps it may seem… blasé to say, but maybe time will tell.”

There had been that gap where nothing existed in his memory, just past blinding light and searing skin. Absolute nothingness, the complete absence of any recollection, emotion, sensation; it was endless. Then there had been this, the present and all that continue to unfold ahead of him. It gave him great reason to heed to caution rather than grasp the abundance before him.
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Zafina heard some form of placation in his answer, him offering even a descriptor to give her some ease in her vex. Remarkably, it had worked. Her walk was not as stressed, as she began to hope the river would just cascade over the two, and drown them in some random magical happenstance.

Her aud nearest him absorbed his chatter, taking in the words with strict posture atop her crown. Her blink slowed as she considered the mortal's words, and if there was something that wasn't cliche that he had mentioned, it was in fact Time. Time had no choice in this matter, and would be forced to put you on the spot, whether you recognized it, or not.
A thoughtful hum allowed him to see she listened, while her mouth remained shut.

Some more minutes passed before she had taken a deep breath, the Witch mulling over thoughts she didn't expect herself to have. Yet, before she allowed the man insight, she thought some more on the topic. Deciding it would be best to keep it to herself, she swerved the subject back to his original topics. Ostracizing him. "What was the hardest thing you have endured?" She did not look at him, only allowing her ears to gesture she was listening. In fact, she looked weary, almost defeated. What had drained her so?
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The silence that fell between them was a natural one and he let it be, instead focusing on the path ahead as he guided them through the riparian timber. The terrain had begun to level out, one of many indicators that they were drawing closer to the river. But before he could discern just where they were along their travel, her voice broke the quiet with a question that did not permit an immediate answer.

He could have taken the easy way out and said there were too many to choose from, but it would have been only half true. Dirge felt that there had always been one difficult decision after another and perhaps on a more basic level his life had once felt like every decision was difficult—the folly of youth as i,t were—but on the grand scale? Grains of sand in the hourglass. The question was perhaps just as subjective as it was objective, wholly the matter of perspective and just as likely to change based on the time of day or mood.

Inevitably, he did take the easy way out, but of his own design.

“The summer my eldest were born, a famine struck our homeland,” he answered. “They were but a few weeks old when it began, right before our preparations for the coming winter were to begin again. We had no warning that it was to happen, nothing that suggested such a thing, and no clues as to when it would end.” But it had, that he did remember. It had been in the winter at some point, when whatever had plagued the land relented to give them a fortunate spring they had needed.

“We were lucky then, too,” he went on, “but some of our neighbors were not. Their suffering was worse than our own, their homes less favorable to sustain them or their resourcefulness lesser—I don’t recall which.” Nor did he care entirely either; what was done was done and there was naught he could do to go back in time to remedy it had he even wanted to.

He shook his head, dismissing the memory.

“Beyond that, I would say this ranks up there as well. It’s jarring to awaken in an unfamiliar place and not know what dangers it may be full of, or whether or not it could happen again. While I do have a love for adventure, I prefer it to be on my own terms, mysteries and all.” Again, a flash of a sly smile there and gone in an instant. More for himself than anyone else, truly.
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"They nearly failed to survive because of their lack of preparedness." Her summary was a bit blunt on the neighbors he seemed so dire in worry of. Her bitter line settled on her jowls, creasing her deadpan sentence into something apathetic. The Witch called it as it was, and while he was polite enough to not dwell on another's pain, she was not. "They either learn to better themselves from their mistakes, or they will die." A deep huff went between those scarless lips. Only then would she turn to regard him, catching his sly little grin long enough to feel some ease of her touchy case. What a charmer. Almost knightly. A placator, at maximum. If only he had a little less moral steadfastness.

Her garnets came free of him as they walked even more. She tried even moreso to ignore how his proximity encouraged nasty thoughts in her head. "Perhaps they will learn from their past mistakes. Only time will tell." The Goddess only dabbled on it once more before letting the rest blow away. She considered asking him what prey lay in these lands, but she was not trying to spend more time with a man who unintentionally influenced her internals, independently. She had kept her eyes peeled for the break within the treeline, hoping the smell of wet and sound of rush would come soon. "I've traveled for many cycles. The majority have been very uncomfortable. It is undoubtedly worse being in such an unfamiliar place. I know nothing of this land."
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“Well, then you’re not alone in that. We’ve begun to map our surroundings well enough but for the most part there are many things still a mystery. The same goes for the others who have begun to stake their own claims,” he rejoined smoothly. “And there are packs in all directions from what we’ve gathered. Most of them seem nice enough, for now.”

Winter would change that, he presumed. Waking there in the throes of its late season had given them challenges, but they had benefited from their own skill and survival. There had also been fewer of them then too, he recalled; Empyrean had robust numbers now, more than he would have imagined but telling just how many of them had been displaced, not including the newer faces that had come to fill in their ranks.

And on cue, he caught sight of the whitewater rapids through a stony patch, down through the forest which only seemed to glisten stronger with the red sap and its near grotesque nature. Instinctively, his steps hastened themselves towards it, going off the trail they had been working to descend through the mix of ferns and grasses that mixed with the lower brush.

“The river’s just ahead now,” he said.

---

+2 Discovery Points

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His final comment had actually startled her. Packs in all directions?! Yet, as he had mentioned, the 'for now' sat heavily in her mind as she slowed her walk with him only just a bit. Her mind had raced as she thought of how new she could have been to all of this. It was almost baffling. Was she resurrected late while everyone else had been early? So they hadn't all arrived at the same time, or was she brought to a completely different realm, world, place within the universe? Her thoughts raced. Was her catalyst still where it had been left, or was she living in it? From what she had come to see, it looked the very same as the one she had recognized - she was mentally unfit in this situation. However, as nothing had made sense with her, and as she always had, she chalked it up to her Affinity, as the Goddess of Paradox. Nothing would ever make sense with her, and she had to re-come to terms with it.

Yet, the Witch had to compel herself to hold in her incredulity as she asked the man suspectfully, "How...many cycles have you walked this realm?" Another couple of steps towards their destination, and before he could give his reply, she followed up with "And how many cycles had you been before coming upon this one?" For once, there was no hidden intent in her words. No snidery, nor mockery. This was her genuine curiosity, as she fought back another existential crisis. So wrapped into this distinct conversation, she had even forgotten she was in heat.

He had mentioned his legion had enough time to map the area, even saying his knowledge of pack residency around them. They were knowledged, and she would have to remember to visit them for info. Yet she hadn't even given her name. As they had neared the roiling torrent of gurgling river, pads effectively cleaned from the nice trekk through forgiving gerns, she had brought herself to look at him again. "I am Zafina. Mother of the Sahiras. Should you cross any of my Family, tell them you and your own are protected." Her words cautioned a bit on the following, however. “The same, should you cross any Nightmares, if they have been resurrected as well. You have the Goddess of Paradox’s protection.”
That was the most she could give them.

Well, almost the most - he didn't want what else she had to offer.
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The dynamic changed between them in an instant, the cord of tension he felt suddenly cut and all of that energy found itself whisked away. Her one-two punch of questions had his head turning to look at her as his own pace slowed down along the descent, his brow furrowing in question. He didn’t need to ask anything—it was as though she knew she needed to supplicate the necessary information so that things might make more sense, at least for one of them.

Her name, her story or legacy as it were did not ring any bells with him. It should have, but there was nothing to come about with it like there would have with something far more recent and familiar. Whatever history they had in the past no longer held ties to him now; what did matter to him was what he gleaned from her offering of protection—evidently she dabbled into things that were of a far darker and superstitious nature than he believed in.

Still, he gave her a nod. Fair was fair—he knew the strife of searching.

“My name is Dirge,” he offered in turn. “I and several others woke here in the winter, though I can’t say for sure where exactly in that season we were when we came here. The mountains usually lose their snow towards the middle of spring, but I know the river wasn’t frozen over either.”

He shook his head, off on a tangent. Her other question, however…

“Before that, I can tell you that I’ve seen several full seasons all the way around. I don’t count them, so if you were looking for an exact number I can’t say. At least more than four years now, I suppose.” More than four of which he was sure; his gaze went back to the path ahead of him. He hadn’t noticed it, but he had slowed down some since the days of when he had left his mother behind. By now, she was more than likely gone and one with the earth as nothing more than bones.

Osiris had matured, he knew that. Altair was a yearling now.

“Like I said, this is a jarring place.”
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The Goddess made her way soundlessly to the edges of the rush, feeling the cold jitter up her digits as she placed the edge of her forepad in. It was a callous reminder to her of her prior mission, and she brought her bloodied gems back to the oddly gentle golds of her company. Riverrock shifted under her light weight only slightly as she moved to begin submersion. Yet, before she did, she figured to release the male from his obligation. "Appreciated, Dirge," she let his name ruggedly fall from her tongue with a slight cant of her dark crown. It was such a dirty name, sounding better on some mindless meatheaded peon than a humble knight such as he. But as she scrutinized it, she couldn't figure a title that was more fitting. So clearly, it didn't matter. She mulled over his latest words silently, trying to figure the best way to tell her Family there was too much competition here to even dream of settling. Perhaps the age of gods and goddesses were lost. Something timeless, and engraved so heavily into existence itself, falling apart by their own design.

Or maybe it was her hormones in this pathetic body depressing her into another overthinking fit. Another trick of the Celestials, no doubt. 'I'll not have it', she growled inwardly. Almost immediately she thrust herself into the cold water, in an attempt to hard reset the body's undesired functions that came with the heat. The turbulence was welcomed, and relished the cold that permeated her bones. Sooner or later, she rose above the surface, remaining close enough to the shore that she could reclaim footing and make her way back. She wouldn't yet, and would enjoy this swim on this miserably fruitless day.
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They reached the water’s edge not long after the words had left his mouth and Dirge had been at the point to make an inquiry when her voice reached him to give thanks. Offering her a nod as she slipped away, he at first thought she was going to the water’s edge to quench her thirst and followed after her and that sickly sweet scent to do the same—he decided perhaps there would be the best point to delve further into what had given her the heel-face-turn moments ago.

Only as they stepped into the shallows at a point where the current was not so strong, he watched as she dove in and drifted away. Or at least that was the illusion the water cast with her dark form as she faded into deeper waters. Confusion etched itself across his features as he waited for her to reemerge somewhere and though she did, it was a fleeting thing, and much further away than conversation would allow.

He could have chased after her—the thought almost spurred him into action, but he stopped himself. She hadn’t gained what she sought other than knowledge and ultimately he decided that was her reasoning for abandoning him with a wordless barb. Confusion replaced itself with a hard line of nonchalance in a slow manner; washing up would be his next bet along this stretch of the river. The crossing of their paths required secrecy and not because of anything that had transpired, but he knew that Hydra would grow a seed of doubt faster than any choking weed in existence.

And frankly, he didn’t need that.

So once he was satisfied that he had done all he could to render any trace of his venture into the wilderness with a relative if not forgotten stranger, he set off to hunt. The day would be well gone and late by the time he had done so, whether successful or not, and perhaps by then he would have a tale to tell either way.

If the world was written and woven like a tapestry he had tugged the threads of, then he had yet to unravel all the mysteries and secrets untold it had just as much as he had yet to weave his own tales in to. And if Zafina had been in possession of some sort of mystical, magical, otherworldly power, then only time would if that protection of hers really did work.
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