I would hate to see you go,

in this mood

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As the rain poured outside of the Grotto, in the midst of the night did the Queen stay awake, an orange gaze sitting in the entrance.. Watching the droplets fall, and the lightning soundlessly streak from the sky. There was much to think about, as a gaze looked back toward that of her litter. There was a few packs that were coming around that clouded her mind, particulary coming toward that of the desire to encapture and dominate of The Pantheon ; but alas, plans must be held off.

When she thought of Tavra, who was all alright within the plains, she had thought about those two. Of course she would think that since many ran off, they all went together.. A gleaming eye as she smiled lightly, for surely they went far to avoid her wrath. Though it was never to be the end, for the woman was vengeful to all that crossed her path. When she looked at her children, who were the future of what she so desired.

To those who betrayed - they would not. She would make them love her as the mother that she was, but through the training they would go through. Hardened, the Queen wanted them to be, strong, for her silence would not be forever - even to the packs that she did not know. Though unknown group may venture within the plains, and one nearby.. A peace would be, as she watched her heirs grow by the day.

For one day they would be strong, and one day, there would be war. A silent chuckle laughed through the night, though beloved as she as a mother, and she so loved them back. Their birth was not of one without a purpose - for in the end, there was more loyalists to herself to gain. She was giddy, for the day they were strong enough to properly be a guard - to beside her, as they watch the downfall of others, and expand such an empire.

Greed and dream was such a love, for all that she thought, none would be say out loud. For in the end, she knew not if it would work.. But her litter, was that first step.

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Consist patterns of rain were music to the duke's ears, his lullaby but also his call to rise. Amidst a nightmare, he twitched, little paws flaying to and fro as he’d try with all his might to exit the unwanted dream.

A sudden gush of rainfall finally ended his terror, and he blinked into the dreary night. Eyes sought out the only comfort in their room, and when he found her, she was at the entryway to their temporary home. He took himself to her, laying into the cushioning of her flank, sweet-honey eyes shone into the darkness and misery of the midnight hour.

‘Are you okay mother?’, he half-muttered, sleep still poured over his words, as he tried to combat the drowsiness. In times like these, he desperately wanted to cuddle that security blanket of calling his dam mummy, wishing to drop the formality, but he knew he wasn’t allowed to.

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"Oh my Warwick," perhaps she was drunk on such a thought. The greed that came with such a dream toward the purpose of what all, this was. The moon shined down to the grotto, as she turned to face her son with a light smile she see the moonlight motioning off her own pelt, and glistening around her son. Though the shadow that she was, looming over him while inching closer with her snout, "my sweet little prince," she said, a nosing toward his forward. All that it was, she held motherly love to - but in the end could never forget the waltz she took to get to this stance ; to the point they were alive and thriving, fatherless they may be, all but born with a purpose. Of her desires.

"Sleep now, let your dreams take wing," she so whispered, a tucking tail to him closer, though her voice was thickened by toxicity of venomous poison as she a low rough chuckle slipped out. Her first born son, strong and proud that he was - surely to be the crown of what all was, "one day, Warwick.. You'll be big and strong." Would it be enough though, for all that she greeds for? To rule more then just a single forest, where traitors lay in the midsts - where she would never know who would turn their back, as the Queen momentarily flashed a thought toward Remus.

But not them, not him. With all that has been, showering in sweetness and toughness.. They won't betray her.

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The fog of sleep slowly faded as the beautiful melody that was his mothers voice beckoned him further out of his dreamy trance. He snuggled in deeper into the fleece of his dams lush coat, welcoming the warmth and guard of her tail as it wrapped around him in a loving embrace.

Had he been of an understanding age, wiser and savvier to the suspicious aura his mother had slipped into, he would've questioned further of her motives to be so awake in the hour they all rested.

She ushered him to sleep, but the duke was no longer seeking dreams. Perhaps a tale or two would entice him to drift off into the world his mother so longed for.

'Tell me a story, mother? Pretty please?'. He had much to learn of their Déorwine history, of his heritage and lineage. Of the darker secrets his queen was never to tell and her skeletons of which were never to be found.

Little did the duke know of his sole purpose, of the conflicts and conquering foreordained by the hands of his beloved family. His noble blood was not one of pure blue, for it carried the tainted blood of the ruthless Rache, combined with the wrath of the Déorwine, he would inevitably become the merciless force his mother would nurture and mould him into. -- Big and strong.

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When he requested a story, she hummed lightly.. A moment of thought coming toward @Calhoun as she gazed passed Warwick and looked upon her small, crisply burnt sun child. A prince of the elk, touched by the faintest evening as the sun dimmers to the sky down, and yet such a love.. Cursed by the resemblance of him, a story of jealousy and twinging that brought out a skeleton in thought. He was far asleep as Warwick remained up, and she smiled ever so slightly.

"Once upon a time," the Queen started.. "there was cousins. One who lead her people to a new land while she gained followers, and he, who followed in reluctance. He did not like change, but to survive in a place they did not belong, the way they lived would have to be changed," her voice hummed slightly, sweetly thickened in toxicity as she narrowed back to the thundering skies.. A memory of what once was a past.

"For she tried to lead the wolves to sanctuary, but every turn she took he would challenge her. Yet as family she could not anything and only try to please him. Even with such benevolence, the rumors of his uprising would not stop. He desired a life like before, customs of the blasphemy that they could no longer continue ignoring.. Though colors may be damned, not all have proven such disgust, and to perhaps give a chance, to those who truly deserve it. But he? Did not like that."

"For us Déorwine's, it is the belief that our brown color is closest to the High Elk in blessing.. Anything else is seen farther away from his benevolence, but that does not mean they are bad. Only those carrying white, are prophesized to be damned - but with the right direction, they could be changed. Yet, he wouldn't accept that, didn't like the chance to renew even if it meant giving trust."

"To save her wolves and move forward from their past, she had no choice but to turn him away. No one truly knows what happened to him afterwards.." 

Oh but she did. She could only nudge her child closer to herself as she momentarily thought of the night. For in the end though the story may say he was turned away ; it was in truth she bore that of an elken crown. To seek him out in the midst of the and to turn him away from life itself.. For the Déorwine Queen had stained her paws more then once. Except during that night, she too, had perished under the alignment of a white elk, and passed onto the new life.

"Nor' was he the only one like that." As she thought of her other, the twinside of him, her young daughter, @Rohesia.

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cameoooo deorwine culture time

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The boy slumbered lightly through the storm only occasionally twitching at the leg or shifting subconsciously while his brother and mother spoke quietly. Their words had gone unnoticed at first, though her tale would soon ring loud enough to pull him from the hazy veil of sleep. Calhoun yawned, his face away from the two though he would soon pick up on the conversation behind him as his mind came to focus.

An ear would pull back, curved like a horn as he fished for his mother's words. Almost immediately did he pick up on the words of the High Elk. They had a few lessons about him before, though nothing of detail aside from how he protected and watched over them. To hear that their pelt color mattered...well that was news to him. Red eyes slowly shifted down to his paws as he held one upturned, the creams of his under showing aside his warm browns. That meant he was blessed, right?

The story of the cousins practically went over his head, he had missed most of it anyway, but now he had a new realization. Not all of his siblings matched what their mother had just described...some held greys or even white. Why had they not been blessed too? The boy's brows scrunched together as he stared at the ground with questions.

He would just have to find his answers later.

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The tale began, and the prince furled himself tighter into the warmth of his mothers' security. At first he closed his eyes, immersing himself into the fantasy his dam painted, splaying out the blank canvas behind shut eyes, for her to create something magical and memorable.

As words developed from a story to what Warwick then realised was reality, his family history, his eyed widened, and head tilted upwards to look at his mother as she recalled all with such fine detail and perfection.

But certainly, what most intrigued him of the truth of their religion, was the very same as his younger brother, whom he was oblivious that had woken and eaves dropped his bedtime story.

'But... does that mean Maral and Vermillion are... damned?', a voice of a hushed whisper from a concerned brother, he daren't to glance behind to look at the siblings he now will never see in the same again.

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She shook her head, "though said to be, they have not done anything, it is only foretold of what could be — it is your duty, as a brother, as family, as but another wolf, to keep them away from the path that they have cursed with." She did not notice her second eldest son waken from his slumber. She was so focused on her thoughts and stories, everything else seemed to be zoned out into that olivion of mindset. The Queen taught her son carefully, so she would hope he would learn better then her ancestors. Then herself.

To take those in with but a guidance, and keep them onto the right path. Though to be wary.. Of those said to carry white, for Celnes has been betrayed a few times by their kind, where she should look more closely. A true stain upon their history, of betrayel that would be.. She would hope her own sons and daughters, would carry a better judgement than she has shown for quite some while. The hope, to redeem, as she slowly gathers numbers once more and the attempt of trusted individuals. 

"Regardless of all that may be, I will love you all." She said, as she coddled his head with faint tongues of affection.

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The tension that had unknowingly risen within muscles that stretched around his body, would relax so slightly when his mother rid his doubts and worries.

The young prince then vowed there and then he'd make sure his dear, unaware sisters were protected from veering into the wrong paths.

'I promise to the High Elk, I will help them', his unbroken chords made his words still sound by those of a child, but in that small moment, the brotherly adult within him knew he'd forever look after his family. A serious, but eager face tilted within the stormy night, the yellows of eyes glistened with every stroke of lightning clashing in the sky, as he looked at his mother with a look that only confirmed his pledge.

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Cameo!

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^^

As his mother told her story to his siblings, Aldritch didn't move from his little ball at one end of the den. Only letting a single ear turn toward her words to catch what he caught would be something pleasant... instead, he was met with questions, his own as he pondered the truth behind her stories.

It weighed heavy on him as he knew the colours of an elk... and looking down at his own paws, at the reflection that would stare back at him from the puddles outside of their den, he did not have the same colours. "Though said to be, they have not done anything, it is only foretold of what could be", what could be? Peach irises focussed on his paws as they turned inward.

Is that why he was treated so differently?

"it is your duty, as a brother, as family, as but another wolf, to keep them away from the path that they have cursed with." She told them. It made the boy's brows furrow. For them to guide him? They were cruel! And why would he let them if they were blessed with such luck while he, "cursed" with something he could not rectify if no one knew? Frowning deeply at his own paws, he would continue to listen as their mother speak, but choose not to interact.

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She did not realize the rest were listening while cooing to her eldest of stories and ways to protect. She found him as the firstborn, the holiest of them all, brown to the beloved sunset and eyes bright and gold — her Prince. To be the leader of them all, she would think, the heir that at moment would be chosen for her time of dawn.. Though all could be changed, she thought. Looking back at the rest her son Calhoun was also growing bright and strong, and yet the fear he was like him still lingered. There was also her daughters, true Queens to be in the distant time and yet, two unruly and rest containing a meek quietness.. Not just ready, not yet.

Only a few to think for the destined future when she would retire, and the few that would be the front-guard of Elkshire itself. Warwick, Calhoun, Edith, Rohesia.. Her beautiful trio, the most holy of them all while a gaze then passed to her more stained deorwines, who by pure chance of them all, were deemed weaker within her eyes. Though love are strong, when she thought of them above all else — they could not attest to be royalty.

But they're young. They're learning the ways as a Deorwine noble and slowly was she indulging them to the High Elk ways. To explain that white was a sign to warn, to protect and guide them in the right way! "There are some beyond our realm who carry white as well. Guide them to the right path, but keep wary — for the signs are always there whether they have committed sin or not," the Queen warned. She induldge in the recruiting, to gain bodies.. She would say use them as she so did, but her dear Warwick was so soft, and was not ready to hear such devious words..

For now, she would guide him as he instructs him to do to others ; be the leader they needed.

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And there it was, the first night of many that would warp and gnarl Warwick's pure, naïve mind into one full of beliefs and religion. One that would mould him into a Déorwine soldier, to protect his mother, to protect his sisters from veering onto their wrong paths; to protect his family. He took on board, all of his queens sage advice. 'Yes, mother'.

It then dawned on him, that there really were no other wolves within their pack that bore the tragedy of a bleached coat. 'So, no white allowed in Elkshire?', he was still adjusting, was digesting the newly found heritage. Were none ever to be allowed within their pack ranks?

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"It is up to us to see if they are allowed to. There is not a yes or no — but a baring and waiting to see whether they deserve our land." She did not desire to say a yes or no, for in the end the rules shift and go as so the muse tends to follow. Sometimes she doesn't allow and abhors their pure of color, and other times she holds a leniency ; especially now as some of her young held those stains, "it is up to you, to smile and bare it — assess who they are, wait and watch. Do they follow the path that is foretold in their fur? Or turned away, and to be welcomed in Elkshire." A smile to herself as words would say, for just as she always has done. Smile and pretend the days away, toxic heart with sweet words glistened into the mixture, and she would hope her children as well, would learn of this persona.

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He listened, it was all much to take in at this nightly hour. The disturbing revelation of whites, the paths in which his dear sisters' were to follow, the story his mother told...

The prince nodded, he looked away and back over to his sleeping brothers' and sisters', and squinted in the darkness. He was certain he saw a couple of shifting figures, perhaps siblings wanting to go unnoticed. He rather hoped it wasn't his sisters to have overheard the conversation though. Maybe it could just be mothers' and his secret?

'Do any of my brothers' and sisters' know about this... white thing too?', he peered up to his mother, his eyes that once carried sleep, now were full of wariness, of curiosity, but also worry.

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"Not yet." She shook her head, and followed his gaze toward the rest. Some stirred, but she couldn't tell within the darkness and pittering of the rain if they overheard the conversation — ah, perhaps her laughter stirred their sleep. Though she smiled, there was a slight headache forming to think her musing of the night would cause any troubles that may occur.. Then again, they should be learning eventually.

"But soon they will know too. As family, it's upmost you protect each other — and to bring pride and honor to the Deorwine name." She held more closely to the actual name then the religion it took — for as long as she remembered it was brought both a shame and an honor. The scorn of some who through they were inbred freaks, but the jealousy to think of the family. She was protective over it, especially since the Queen believed she was one of the last royals within the family.

A perfect time to warp it to how she saw fit.

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A stroke of lightning bolted through the air, and a wave of crashing noises echoed around them. The flash caught and enhanced the citrine of his eyes, still scanning his mother with an unwritten look on his child features. He tried to understand all as much as he could. There were surely more questions to follow the princes' curiosity, but perhaps with the clock striking past his bedtime, he was pushing his midnight storytime with his queen. 

'Will you tell them, mother?', he prompted, not wishing to cause friction nor an upset with Chinese whispers by becoming the one who tells his littermates. The chill of the thunderstorm caused him to curl further into his mothers' warmth, with his nose pecking into its density.

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"In time.. And that my love for them is not any less." Though that couldn't be said it was the same in the beginning. She held a resentment, a burden and overall.. Judgement, for everything that may be. To toy and turn how she saw fit was the way the hypocritical Queen so saw ; the burden of so their religion and yet her ability to twist and turn words to how she wanted to be. Some parts she believed, other days she wasn't so religious. Time where Celnes couldn't help but look at them in disdain, a mark for what she has done, and other days, a cursing toward the Gods, for deciding her innocent young was told they were marked for evil.

Wasn't she just cursing them earlier?

To love and to hate, so was the Deorwine curse that was inflicted upon them.

"It is time for you to sleep, little prince," the mother said, a gentle lick upon his head as he curled into her fur.

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With the constant battle of his eyes wishing to draw shut, he was eager to learn, to drink up all the knowledge of his history, of their religion, of their monarchy. There would be other times to listen to the tales and truths of it all. And he knew he was pushing for more secrets or whispers from his mother at this late hour. 

A sweet smile with released tension came from him, when his mother assured him of her continued love for his siblings that were now painted in a different brush in his eyes, but only ever so slightly. 

When the warmth of his dams tongue traced his smooth furry head, he curled further into the depths of her lush coat, something that he would soon enough be too big to do ever again. And so, without a mutter of protest, but a whisper of 'Love you, Mother', he enjoyed this intimate moment and closed his eyes to allow sleep to envelop him in a silent quilt.

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