Mona played with dolls. I play with body parts. Game on, bitches.

^^

meanwhile, as Hawking speaks to Celnes,.. (in this thread)..

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Meanwhile, as Hawking goes to make his report to the queen and her newest brood of sinners, Archon was just awakening from his nap, in a forest that wasn’t familiar to him despite this being where he’d landed without Bam Bam (the original) nearly a year ago.

Without Hawking, his pre-friend, by his side, Archon feels almost naked. He’s always had someone there with him; always had company. His mother, his father-uncle, Hawking; zombies sometimes filled the gaps.

He glanced around this new forest with wide, uncertain eyes. Would he find zombies here, too, or was it safe? How would his mother know to come this far south, if she needed him? His ears twitched with a sigh as he uncurled himself from Hawking’s antler that he’d given him in the tundra and began chewing.

Until he’d heard a twig snap, and the rustling of the bushes. His hackles rose, ears lowering as he eyed the bushes, but he said nothing for now, merely just chewing on Bam Bam, staring off into the distance.

Who was out there?

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Such an innocent, unmarred prince now had found the route to real life, to events that were not as beautiful as the summers that painted wonderous canvas' here in Elkshire. A lot had changed within their once united pack, or so he believed. Perhaps things were always this way, but with naivety and exploring at the summit of his interests, he was blind to the concoctions of drama that unfolded within their pack during that period of his life.

Like the uncertain times, he in turn was changing, moulding into the more level-headed duke that now turned his usually heavily occupied attention to the dark being that lay amidst their forest. Their backs were to him, and until he got closer, he then noticed the antler they were seemingly enjoying sharpening their canines upon. He frowned at the unsightly habit. 

Warwick was no longer that helpless whelp, but donning the premature stages of the gargantuan physique of his undesired father. His structure had begun to fill out, though the elongated teenager legs and youthful face were the telltale signs of his young age. 

'Antlers are sacred to us, and are untouched in this haven of horned ones', he traced no carcass and made the assumption there was no kill made, 'We do not tolerate the spill of their blood here'. He raised his head, an air of judgement about him as he appraised the wolf, though remained calm despite the itch perhaps inherited reluctantly from his dear daddy to attack at just the sight of this unholy injustice. 'You are in Elkshire. Who are you?', the decibals in his tone were now broken from the high pitch one of a pup and very much akin to his sire. Sitting, he showed no hesitance with his intrusion.

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^^Perhaps it was a good thing that Hawking had told Archon that Bam Bams were also known as Antlers, otherwise he might not have known what this guy was going on about, though Hawking had already told him of this pack’s love for his(Hawking’s) kind.

This was all fine and well for Archon, who was already almost friends with Hawking, and would never dream of hurting him - or anyone else, unless they were a confirmed zombie, for that matter. Slowly removing his mouth from the golden antler, Archon curled protectively around it as he would turn to face the younger boy.

“My deer friend Hawking gave this antler to me when we were in the tundra, and I brought it with me when we entered your home, and I will protect him from any who tries to spill his blood. He is my friend. Friends are not meant to be eaten, ever. ” Even if they were pre-friends right now.

“I am Archon, I traveled from the north to make sure that Hawking got home safely. He gave me his antler and his permission to do what I’d like with it.” Surely, if antlers were seemed sacred, so was the deer who grew them.

“Are you, too, a friend of the deer known as Hawking?”

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Their reaction was no surprise when they grew protective of the apparent shed bones since most would, and Warwicks frown remained intact when they displayed their shielding. Yet, they persisted on the ground, either they concluded the duke was no threat to them, or they were not a threat themselves. 

The prince of Elk rose his head in the same particular light his mother would, a subconscious move he inherited by watching her over the months in the manner in which she conversed with members of the pack or indeed others that were alien to them. He welcomed the explanation, nodding to show his appreciation of their loyalty to a friend of theirs he was yet to meet. 

'That is all very well and understandable, and how very gracious that is of a deer to bestow upon you such a special gift, but if you are to remain in Elkshire for the time being, then you must adhere to our rules. It is prohibited the slain of our Elk and Deer herds', he still did not agree though with the way they cherished the sacred offering. But he knew not all were open to their ways, beliefs and religion as his mother once informed him. Had a different sibling been in his place, they perhaps would not have held their tongue.

They did, however, satisfy him with an introduction. And he allowed himself to ease slightly in their presence.

'Archon. My name is Warwick, a prince of Elkshire and son of Queen Célnes', he introduced himself, that frown of his dispersing and a faint smile spoke upon his black lips.

'I am yet to meet Hawking, I know very little of him but he and his kind are most welcome here, and I am certain our Queen has already made this clear to him', that minute appearance of a smile then disappeared, airing the question that glided through his mind, 'But does my mother know of your presence here?'. He made sure his enquiry was delicate without sounding too condescending, though it was his place in his home to ensure unfamiliars were announced to guards and pack members and only felt his question was therefore justified.

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^^There was clear confusion on his face as Archon glanced over the boy with the tilt of his head. Now Archon was usually a relaxed, polite boy, but he couldn’t help but feel as though Warwick was interrogating him, like he’d done something wrong.

The confusion was not for their love of deer; Archon would admit that Hawking was pretty impressive, and all should protect him - but Warwick repeated the words as if there had been some sort of disagreement when Archon had just said that he would protect Hawking - as he was the only deer Archon knew of.

“I, uh, just said I would.. ” Archon muttered, nervously, unsure how else to acknowledge it, but he frowned when Warwick said that he hadn’t met Hawking. Shameful, really. Hawking was the only friend he’d had and therefore, by default, that made him (Hawking) the BEST.

Upon Warwick’s question about the queen, Archon looked around and sniffed, wondering if that was where his friend had gone. “I think she might by now, actually? I came here with Hawking, then took a nap, and when I woke up he was gone, so I can only assume that he has or is speaking to her, but if you want to take me to your ma - y-your queen, or who’s ever I need to talk to, that’s fine too.. ”

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Bad timing. Is all it was for the recipient to receive the brunt of Warwicks' changed demeanour. Had it been only a full moon rise prior, a less uptight duke would have been greeting the stranger with a more benevolent conduct. One that would not have entailed an interrogation and one that did not include his furrowed brow.

Whilst Archon made clear no harm would come to a friend, there was no promise made in his words that reached that same umbrella for Elkshires precious herds that roamed so freely, so careless and in little harm's way. The prince was duty-bound to ensure any residents were fully comprehending of their laws.

It then dawned on him that he was creating unnecessary tension. The new arrival boasted no threat and the nerves were now apparent. So Warwick recognised his fault and took a deep breath, readjusting himself.

'She would be more than happy to make your acquaintance too, not just Hawking', his faint smile returned. 'Come, so I may introduce you', he stood and beckoned them to follow.  

Travels always intrigued him, but not feeling it was yet his time to do so, though his siblings clearly had, and he welcomed stories from afar. 'You must be weary from your long travels. I have only heard of brief tales of the cold Tundra, is it truly as freezing up there as folk complain?'. It was his attempt to show Archon he was not as uptight as the impression he was holding so far.

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^^ Archon really wasn't a hard fellow to get along with and before Warwick had painted him a villian, he had never not gotten along with anyone that wasn't a zombie.

It was then that Archon's eyes narrowed with suspicion, in wonder if Elkshire had been infiltrated by zombies. An ear flickered back as Warwick seemed to lay off, seeming a bit more friendly as if he had seen the error of his ways.

Slowly standing, Archon would come to nod his head, glancing to Bam Bam that lie under him. If chewing on Bam Bam had put Warwick's panties in a twist, then his mother would surely feel the same way.

Did he really have to abandon Bam Bam, so soon? He glanced to the prince the next time to Bam Bam. He liked Hawking. He wanted to have his friend nearby. Was Bam Bam truly worth all this trouble?

He inhaled deeply, deciding that if he wanted to be accepted, then he would have to love Bam Bam in secret, despite that the prince and Hawking already knew of his love for Bam Bams. So he would dig a small hole, and bury Bam Bam. He would simply have to come back for him later, in hopes that no one found Bam Bam and stole him.

“What's the queen's name? Does she go by her name, or should I call her Queen before her name?” Archon asked softly, taking a few steps into his direction and giving one last look to where Bam Bam now lay buried. I will come back for you.

“Oh, um, y-yeah. We got caught up in a snow storm! It was so cold, and you couldn't see anything either because the snow was EVERYWHERE. We had to take shelter to get warm from the snow and the storm. I don't know how we would have gotten out of there if it wasnt for Hawking.”

He would make no mention of the zombies until he could figure out if Elkshire was a zombie pack or not.

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It startled him what the juvenile did next, and with curious eyes did he watch him find a spot to bury the antler; it seemed he treasured it, despite it not being in the most favourable of ways. And this highlighted some similarities between religion and Archons habit, that he too worshipped the antler in his own special approach.

'My mother prefers to be addressed to as Queen Célnes'. 

The lad joined him, and Warwick escorted them through the thicket of woodland. He moved along his compass of recognition, guiding them toward a path in whence he came from, easing into the light chatter, but keeping their pace quick to hasten their movements back to their royal chambers. 

'Sounds quite the adventure, albeit slightly terrifying!', and there was the sound of astonishment amidst his spoken words. 'I hope one day to venture north of Elkshire too'. 

Though I feel it is my duty to stay.

'Have you always been a traveller? Or hail from another pack?'. This was now more like Warwick, questioning but all in a light-hearted curious manner. Perhaps it was because the other was of similar age to him and not an adult that justified his previous demeanour.

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^^Bam Bam was most certainly treasured, perhaps in ways that Warwick and those born of Elkshire would ever come to know or understand, but if carrying him around and chewing on him would cause him to be judged in a negative light, then the habits would be shelved until he was alone or in the right company.

“And what about you? Do you prefer to be called Prince Warwick? What’s your Ma like?”

Archon would follow him through the forest and though he could have sworn that he’d never been here, it felt different; almost as if he’d been here before. “It was both scary and very fun. I’m glad I had Hawking there to guide us back here.”

At Warwick’s next question, Archon tilted his head. “I come from a pack named Frostchant, in the upper mountains, where my Ma and Pacle live. Do you know of it? It’s so far north that it’s almost in the tundra, but not quite. Traveling is nice, I liked seeing different places, but I also want a place to call home. It gets really lonely, but it's also really fun! Let me know when you go, and I'd love to come with you.”

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Whilst he felt it was only correct to introduce himself as a prince, he never felt it was a requirement or necessary to address him as such. 'Warwick is sufficed for me', he smiled, to reassure Archon he was not as imperious as perhaps other royals. 'Mother is kind-hearted, though wary of sinners, and prefers to keep her distance from such'. And there was his first hesitance in his elaboration. Whites were classed as sinners, though it was a judgement to be called upon oneself really, so it was a thought for the first time, on his part, that others may not be as receptive to their beliefs and maybe slithers here and there were acceptable to feed them. 

'You speak so fondly of Hawking, I did not realise you were so close'.

There were only three, and at a stretch, possibly four other packs that he could recall from the top of his head. Frostchant was not one of them. 'I am yet to familiarise myself with them unless my Mother already has, but I doubt so since they are beyond our reach'. 

There was a warmth to Archon that mirrored his own when he did not feel the weight of the world upon his juvenile shoulders, and he believed at that moment this would be a friendship surely to flourish. 'I may take you up on that invite in the future, Archon. Few of my siblings would be as intrigued as myself to leave our home, and it would be more pleasant to have someone accompany me'.

They kept to the narrow path. Every so often it warranted a duck and dive of low branches and trees in need of maintenance to facilitate the pack's channels around their abode. Covering a good amount of ground, they were nearing his mothers whereabouts. 

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^^Sinners.

There was something about that word that made his gut tighten in a way that he didn’t like. Heck, he almost tripped over his own feet at the mention of them, wondering what exactly a sinner was. Was it like a disease that could be obtained and spread - like the zombie illness? He nervously licked over his lips, listening to Warwick with the nod of his head.

“W-what’s a sinner, Warwick?” Archon asked nervously, lowering his ears a bit, really hoping that he wasn’t one of those sinners - though how could he be? Archon was just.. Archon, wasn’t he?

The topic of Archon’s friendship with Hawking almost made him hurt, recalling how they were actually nothing more than almost friends, and that Archon’s fondness over the little deer might not be mutual. “Oh… um, yeah. He’s my only friend. Do.. you have friends?” Archon lowered his gaze, glancing over to the prince as they traveled deeper and deeper into the forest.

Was he truly leading him to the queen, or to a dark ally to murder him and eat HIS BRAINS? His eyes narrowed and he slowed his pace, trying to keep his hackles in place. “They are lead by a very white scary lady who has half a face,” Archon said softly. Was she, too, a zombie? Was his mother in danger?

He could barely hold back a whine from the very idea that maybe his mother’s bosslady was a super villain in need of being eliminated or that his mother might be in danger again, but thankfully, Warwick distracted him with promises of adventure.

Archon sure did love an adventure - and oh, what a perfect excuse to visit his mother!

“Really? Great! I look forward to it. I think adventure time should be something everyone should find the time for, you know? It’s a good idea to know what’s out there.” He had to keep a headcount on those zombies, after all!

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He cursed under his breath at the question. He would rather not rove into that topic at such an early stage of their acquaintance, of their beliefs, though he did not veer far from the truth.  'A sinner is anyone... tainted with the brush of evil', he checked Archon, 'Anyone bad, really', an addition to keep his explanation plain and simple.

They spoke of friendship, and the duke already considered his siblings as his friends, though some more than others, and his thoughts then trailed to Teo, a different friendship altogether. 'I have yes', he smiled, feeling distracted when picturing the pack all together. Could Remus be deemed a friend? His tutor, and the only male he respected enough to be within the same bracket as a father. Even if Warwick did class him as one, did Remus feel the same way, or was it soberly duty that bound him to spend time with the prince.

But what Archon said next caused the duke to stop. 

What?



He was yet to encounter a blemished wolf that was entirely white. Concluded at a young age they were what hell dreams consisted of and were an impossible reality. Yet, as stark as Archon stood beside him, he had been clear of his description. And the polluted leader carried a scar, one that undeniably was carved indirectly by the High Elk himself, Warwick could only presume.

He stared at Archon, in incredulity. 'Completely white?'. 

Gone was his enthusiasm for the travelling conversation.

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^^This just in, sinners and zombies were the same fucking things; Archon’s mind was blown as he quietly whispered. “Oh.” He wondered, too, though briefly, how the Queen determined what wolves were sinners; what was seen as Bad?

Did Warwick take all wolves to meet the queen, or just those in need of a sinner evaluation? But when the prince stopped and looked at him as though he’d said the most outlandish thing, Archon blinked with the tilt of his head.

“I, uh, I think so? I didn’t…um, I didn’t like looking at her cus she was scary.” His mother, too, had been mostly white - though he kept that information to himself - though he could reason that he’d never seen an all white wolf until he was in the high mountains and tundra area and merely assumed that the prince had just never seen one before.

That made sense, didn't it?

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He swallowed, both saliva and information. Eyes unmoving from Archon's own, scrutinising his words, his movements in search of a humourous nature to give untruth to his tale. But there lacked any. Warwick took his own private silence, to mourn his naivety.

He needed to urgently tell his mother of this new information. Though unbeknownst to him, she had already met with the fair swan Olive, his new acquaintance's adoptive dam, but did Celnes know of her leader? 

'What is...' this atrocity's, is what he wanted to truly call her by, 'her name?'. Withdrawing that shock and horror expression, he morphed it into one more pleasant than the last, as though an enforced peace was placed upon his etched smile.

Warwick then unlocked his triggered body, undoing the tension that had risen in every crevice of his bones, and began to march onwards with more emphasis on trying to reach his queen sooner.

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^^

Rolled 18 for perception check

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Riannon. Her name had been Riannon. While she had been missing most of her face and was the most frightening woman, wolf, and creature that Archon had ever encountered to date - she had been one of the many who had risked their lives to save his mother and was therefore seen in a positive light, even if she had failed to inform him that his mother was in danger to begin with.

“Warwick, do you know what a walrus is? Or have you ever seen one?” Archon asked, suddenly, despite the witnessing the look of shock and horror in the prince's eyes. “She's one of the wolves who helped rescue my mother from a walrus some time ago.”

He felt so inclined to tell him, quickly putting the pieces together that white wolves were, for whatever reason (that Archon didn't question), seen in a negative light. He was beginning to feel as though he was somehow, without knowing, painting a target on the woman's back.

“B-but her name is Riannon.”

He hoped that he would come not to regret this decision.

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Whilst Warwick made no untoward comment, Archon interpreted his mannerism to such an ill degree, they felt the need to clarify or justify who she was before finally revealing her name. 

The duke scrolled back to the moments his mother's words forewarned him of making his own judgements. But he still could not help the niggle in the back of his conscience, of the High Elks frown, upon tarnished wolves -- they walked the earth as a beacon of sin, and contrary to Archons belief, there may be a hidden skull or two that had not been discovered thus far, and that was Warwicks mind made up on the matter.

'I can't say I do, they sound barbaric to say the least if it took plenty of wolves to salvage your mother'. His head faced forward, concentrating on the name provided, making a mental note of it to reiterate it back to his mother.

'We are not far, Archon'. Amidst the junction of trees, there ahead was the royal den and he bobbed his head in direction of it.

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