June 122
Demyan sniffed around, trying to find the source of the smell that was aggravating him so much. Finally, he lifted his arm and buried his nose in, and discovered it. The smell was him. He should have known that it was him. It smelled like shit and dead flesh. Maybe that was why he didn't know it was himself as soon as it bothered him, because it was missing a nice heady tang of dried sweat and old alcohol. It must have rained sometime during the night, and it had cleaned him up a little. He managed to roll to his feet, his hand sifting through the empty bottles at his feet until he found something that carried a little bit of liquid weight to it. His throat was parched, lips cracked as always, but he bit and popped the cork that held his liquid breakfast. He took a deep swig, almost gagging at the taste of cold piss. He swallowed anyways, and then peered at the bottle. He must have used it as a urine bucket at some point during his drunken stupor, and then re-corked it like an idiot. Demyan shrugged before choking down another drink of it. It must have some kind of alcohol in it.
He managed to push up to his feet, slamming his shoulder into the wall to hold himself up. He felt... sadder than usual. Angrier too. It wasn't the bitches birthday, it wasn't cold enough for that to be the time of the year. Then what was it? It wasn't the anniversary of- and his mind shied away from the event, his heart beating a strange tattoo and causing him to clench at his chest before it finally calmed down. Either way, it wasn't that day either. Then what was it? Some date that had once been important to him? He shook his head as weak legs finally found the strength to stand on their own. It didn't matter anymore. Any date that had been important in his old life was nothing but another day to be hated and shat upon in what his life was now. He needed a drink. But did he have anything to trade for a drink anymore? He had long spent any bit of money or trade he had. He grimaced, ignoring the scabs on his lips that cracked open and started to bleed as he did so. There was a way to get money. He didn't particularly care for it, and he rarely made a large amount of money doing it, but it was an option. He sighed sadly as he truly thought about it. He was too damned dirty and stinking at this point for any merchant guard who was looking to wet his wick in something other than a woman to pay him any money for that now. Might as well go to the bartender and just beg. They might give him something just cause he was a Kharityn of some sort. Or at least send his bill to the bitch.
He laughed as he managed to push himself away from the wall, and through a door barely hanging on it's hinges. His head spun, his stomach cramped. He might want to get some food too. He laughed again, everything he wanted to eat and drink today, all on Kharityn's bill. He felt his gorge rising, and he vomited an mostly empty stomach onto the ground. Just blood and the piss he had accidentally drank. No food in there. Hadn't been for a few days now. Yes. He was going to have to get some food at some point today. Or else he was going to die. And he was going to have to face them, and explain why he had been a coward. Why he had been so weak. Why he hadn't protected them better. And he wasn't brave enough for that. Not yet.
Birthday Blues
Re: Birthday Blues
Nadejda Kharityna strode down the street, two members of her family flanking her and her cool, emotionless expression set firmly on her face. It was a day she wasn't overly fond of thinking about, but she couldn't really help it. She hid her swirling emotion behind her set, cold eyes and lifted her chin as she walked. She was Kharityn. She was the epitome of wolfkind - smarter, stronger, faster, fiercer. Perfection. Kharityn. Emotions and weakness and regret, those things were for lesser beings.
Despite her litany of perfection, Nadejda felt herself slipping into memories. She was supposed to be meeting with the leader of Dveshiny, Ruslan Ruslanovitch. She was in no good state of mind for that though, not on this day. Ruslan was canny and tough - Nadya needed to be on her game to deal with him. Hunting rights, as per usual, even though Syordana Sashenka or her Master of Hunt should really be dealing with Ruslan about hunting rights instead of Nadya. But last Wild Hunt, some Dveshiniy had crossed over onto Kharityn land, and that simply had to be dealt with before the next Hunt.
She tried to force herself to think of nothing but the hunting rights, but memories of this day many years ago kept creeping in. Happy, smiling clansmembers toasting her big brother's birthday, the big, confident, strong wolf of a man beside her as he smiled and toasted them back. The logistics of the next Hunt were lost in the memories of his laughter and then the betrayal in his eyes as he watched the events of the day of Nadedja's ascent to leadership of Kharityn unfold.
Served him right, she admonished herself. Breeding with a falcon, of all sorts - what kind of children would those have been anyway, wolves with wings? Falcons with fangs? Barbaric. She repeated that again and again to herself as she stalked on towards the Dveshiniy home streets, through some of the seedier areas of Zhaltev. Blood purity was key to survival and improvement - any breeding outside the clan was discouraged and interrupted for good reasons. She had to send her brother away, they had to kill the children. There was nothing else to do.
Despite her litany of perfection, Nadejda felt herself slipping into memories. She was supposed to be meeting with the leader of Dveshiny, Ruslan Ruslanovitch. She was in no good state of mind for that though, not on this day. Ruslan was canny and tough - Nadya needed to be on her game to deal with him. Hunting rights, as per usual, even though Syordana Sashenka or her Master of Hunt should really be dealing with Ruslan about hunting rights instead of Nadya. But last Wild Hunt, some Dveshiniy had crossed over onto Kharityn land, and that simply had to be dealt with before the next Hunt.
She tried to force herself to think of nothing but the hunting rights, but memories of this day many years ago kept creeping in. Happy, smiling clansmembers toasting her big brother's birthday, the big, confident, strong wolf of a man beside her as he smiled and toasted them back. The logistics of the next Hunt were lost in the memories of his laughter and then the betrayal in his eyes as he watched the events of the day of Nadedja's ascent to leadership of Kharityn unfold.
Served him right, she admonished herself. Breeding with a falcon, of all sorts - what kind of children would those have been anyway, wolves with wings? Falcons with fangs? Barbaric. She repeated that again and again to herself as she stalked on towards the Dveshiniy home streets, through some of the seedier areas of Zhaltev. Blood purity was key to survival and improvement - any breeding outside the clan was discouraged and interrupted for good reasons. She had to send her brother away, they had to kill the children. There was nothing else to do.
Re: Birthday Blues
Demyan stepped out onto the streets, the gleam in his eyes dulled by what he had to do to get the alcohol he so needed. He crouched down, cupping up some melt water from a puddle. He wasn't going to waste the alcohol washing the taste of that fat bartender out of his mouth. He slurped it out of his hand, snarling in surprise as the cold of it shocked the cuts in his lips. He shook his head, gargling out the taste, but none of the shame. Who would have thought he had any left? He had done far worse for alcohol in the past. His body wasn't really his own anymore. Just a sack of meat wandering around with a soul still attached to it. It had some value still, or at least it did to that fat bastard of a wolverine. But that's about all it had. He spat out the water and the taste with it. At least it was gone. And the memory, and the shame, it was about to be gone as well.
He pulled the cork, taking a deep gulp before he began walking down the street. He didn't really have anywhere to go today, didn't ever have anywhere to go. But you never knew when someone would have a meat pie cooling on a window ledge, and he never turned down free food in that way. He could trade it for more alcohol. He smiled slightly before taking another drink. About the only thing that made him happy anymore was drinking. He knew that humans could die from it, had heard that anyways. But it seemed that his natural shifter abilities to heal kept him from that. No destroyed liver for him. Which made him drink more. He liked a challenge, so he took another deep gulp, relishing in the burn of alcohol as it traveled down his throat.
When he brought the bottle down and took a deep breath, he smelled something. Something sweet, something familiar. Like his mothers library, eating lunch with her and his sister. Playing in the great hall, running through the passageways, 'hunting' each other. Standing up to others, bigger than her, bigger than him, fighting with his teeth and all the strength his body could muster, snarling at them as they whimpered and crawled off defeated. Smells that reminded him of laying on top of the roof of Kharityn house, counting the stars and talking about their future. The smell of her as she walked to him, covered in anothers blood. Drowned out by the smell of his families blood. Her eyes forgotten over his wifes staring eyes, her dead eyes that didn't shine. Her voice drowned out in the cries of his daughter that echoed in his head. The touch that burned his skin. He could feel it like brands touched to him, where her hand had once touched him. His hand wandered up,dirty and broken nails digging into his face where he still felt them, breaking the skin. With a snarl that ripped apart his throat, he dropped the bottle of alcohol he had given so much for already, not caring as it spilled into the streets.
Nadejda was here, she was close. His clothes ripped and tore as the change overcame him. His skin split, fur spilling out of the cracks in his facade. His nose and jaw lengthened into a snout, his bones twisting and screaming as they reformed and lengthened, some shortening or disappearing altogether. Soon enough, a panting, angry, almost foaming at the mouth wolf stood where a man had been just a moment before. He couldn't resist. The skin and meat that had sloughed off of his human body in the change smelled too good to the wolf. He had let the wolf inside too long. It gorged itself on the bloody meat that was so close, so hot, still steaming. It needed the nutrients. They were so hungry. The wolf was the only one that cared. The beast threw its head back and let loose a howl. All it knew was the human wanted to hunt. It wanted to hunt that clan smell, that sister smell, that betrayer smell. And the wolf was going to oblige.
He pulled the cork, taking a deep gulp before he began walking down the street. He didn't really have anywhere to go today, didn't ever have anywhere to go. But you never knew when someone would have a meat pie cooling on a window ledge, and he never turned down free food in that way. He could trade it for more alcohol. He smiled slightly before taking another drink. About the only thing that made him happy anymore was drinking. He knew that humans could die from it, had heard that anyways. But it seemed that his natural shifter abilities to heal kept him from that. No destroyed liver for him. Which made him drink more. He liked a challenge, so he took another deep gulp, relishing in the burn of alcohol as it traveled down his throat.
When he brought the bottle down and took a deep breath, he smelled something. Something sweet, something familiar. Like his mothers library, eating lunch with her and his sister. Playing in the great hall, running through the passageways, 'hunting' each other. Standing up to others, bigger than her, bigger than him, fighting with his teeth and all the strength his body could muster, snarling at them as they whimpered and crawled off defeated. Smells that reminded him of laying on top of the roof of Kharityn house, counting the stars and talking about their future. The smell of her as she walked to him, covered in anothers blood. Drowned out by the smell of his families blood. Her eyes forgotten over his wifes staring eyes, her dead eyes that didn't shine. Her voice drowned out in the cries of his daughter that echoed in his head. The touch that burned his skin. He could feel it like brands touched to him, where her hand had once touched him. His hand wandered up,dirty and broken nails digging into his face where he still felt them, breaking the skin. With a snarl that ripped apart his throat, he dropped the bottle of alcohol he had given so much for already, not caring as it spilled into the streets.
Nadejda was here, she was close. His clothes ripped and tore as the change overcame him. His skin split, fur spilling out of the cracks in his facade. His nose and jaw lengthened into a snout, his bones twisting and screaming as they reformed and lengthened, some shortening or disappearing altogether. Soon enough, a panting, angry, almost foaming at the mouth wolf stood where a man had been just a moment before. He couldn't resist. The skin and meat that had sloughed off of his human body in the change smelled too good to the wolf. He had let the wolf inside too long. It gorged itself on the bloody meat that was so close, so hot, still steaming. It needed the nutrients. They were so hungry. The wolf was the only one that cared. The beast threw its head back and let loose a howl. All it knew was the human wanted to hunt. It wanted to hunt that clan smell, that sister smell, that betrayer smell. And the wolf was going to oblige.
Re: Birthday Blues
A whiff of scent floated to her on the breeze and she tensed. The memories associated with that scent were the ones that had been tormenting her all day. Family scent first of all - Kharityn through and through, despite the heavy levels of alcohol swirling around the smells - and then second family, closer family, smells of brother. Nadejda paused in the middle of the street, darting a sidelong look at her guards, who did not appear to have noticed the brief scent. "Go tell Ruslan I will be delayed," she said, nodding at the taller one. "Give him my apologies and tell him something has come up."
Trained not to and also knowing better than to question his leader, the taller man jerked his head at the shorter one and they both walked swiftly away towards the Dveshiniy area of the city. Nadejda watched them leave, though she knew they wouldn't follow her, before ducking into an alley and taking a few shaky breaths. She knew Demyan was still in the city, of course - she had forbidden him from leaving - but it was one thing to know that and another to get proof of it. She hoped she would know if he was dead but it had been five years since she'd seen him or smelled him and dead had started to seem more likely.
The family would not like this. Of course, Nadejda didn't care much what the family thought of her choices. She had been leader for five years now and that was unlikely to change. But just because she could hold her own in the family didn't make her a loved leader automatically. That she had to fight for, again and again, probably until she died.
A howl snapped her head up and made her narrow her eyes. It was him, she would recognize that voice anywhere. And he was close. But where? The wolf inside Nadejda raised her head and pricked her ears, looking out through the human eyes. Nadejda would probably be safer as a wolf, she knew. But she could fall into wolf form in an instant, with a breath, part of the immense control she had built over herself. She slipped off her boots and loosened the ties of her shirt and pants just in case. She could be a wolf in an instant, but that would be no good if she got trapped in clothing.
But she didn't think he would hurt her. Not really. They were family and she loved him and had saved him. He wouldn't hurt her.
Trained not to and also knowing better than to question his leader, the taller man jerked his head at the shorter one and they both walked swiftly away towards the Dveshiniy area of the city. Nadejda watched them leave, though she knew they wouldn't follow her, before ducking into an alley and taking a few shaky breaths. She knew Demyan was still in the city, of course - she had forbidden him from leaving - but it was one thing to know that and another to get proof of it. She hoped she would know if he was dead but it had been five years since she'd seen him or smelled him and dead had started to seem more likely.
The family would not like this. Of course, Nadejda didn't care much what the family thought of her choices. She had been leader for five years now and that was unlikely to change. But just because she could hold her own in the family didn't make her a loved leader automatically. That she had to fight for, again and again, probably until she died.
A howl snapped her head up and made her narrow her eyes. It was him, she would recognize that voice anywhere. And he was close. But where? The wolf inside Nadejda raised her head and pricked her ears, looking out through the human eyes. Nadejda would probably be safer as a wolf, she knew. But she could fall into wolf form in an instant, with a breath, part of the immense control she had built over herself. She slipped off her boots and loosened the ties of her shirt and pants just in case. She could be a wolf in an instant, but that would be no good if she got trapped in clothing.
But she didn't think he would hurt her. Not really. They were family and she loved him and had saved him. He wouldn't hurt her.
Re: Birthday Blues
The wolf smelled, the wolf tracked, he hunted. Demyan waited. He waited for the perfect moment, and as the wolf loped around a corner, the smell going from tickling his snout to a blast in the face. There she stood. The wolf stood, panting, staring at someone it knew as the 'family' smell. He didn't understand the hatred that Demyan felt for his family. The wolf only knew that he had been away from his pack for so very long, the will of his other half keeping him away from being with them. From running with them, from hunting with them as he slowly starved. He missed his pack, the safety and security of the pack. He whined, stepping forward, his next step halted by the rage and force behind his human side. The wolf whined again, this time in pain, before yelping, sharp pains twisted through his thin and emaciated frame.
His fur, the little bit that he still had, fell off in clumps, skin shredding. The wolf screamed, an action that most people wouldn't believe possible, as his jaw violently shortened, and too big teeth ripped through lips that were suddenly too small to contain them. Many shifters were calm with their shifting, controlled. Demyan and his wolf were not in agreement over shifting, each holding tightly drawn battle lines that were sorely contested. The wolf's will fought back, trying to stay as their shared body popped and twisted, bones trying to move but being forced between human and animal in a painful and bloody dance. Muscle shivered and tore, tendons popping before healing in the required forms needed shape. The wolf howled in pain again, as the final bits of the body it wore turned back human.
Demyan didn't want the wolf to go to her. He knew that it would. If Demyan let it have reign, it would sleep outside of Kharityn hall, hoping for a whiff of it's former packmates and trying to survive off of whatever scrap or offal the wolves would throw to him. The wolf didn't understand the humans rage. And that was fine by Demyan. He had enough rage for the both of them. If the wolf couldn't be angry at the pack, then the human would have to take over. He was angry enough at Nadejda. His anger was deep in his heart, and it gave him warmth. It gave him enough warmth to burn entire worlds down. So he stood before her, blood still on his skin, fur at his feet, fists balled up as his lips snarled at her, saliva wet teeth glistening in the pale sunlight. He couldn't think to say anything, not that he didn't have the words. He was just too angry. His vision was tinted red, the anger choking anything he wanted to say in his throat. The only thing that he wore was the necklace, the one thing he never lost during his shift. The red hair tied with the black made an interesting contrast on his pale chest, the falcon feather twirling in the wind. He wanted to tear her apart. He wanted to unmake her for what she had done. And then he could leave or die, and be at some kind of peace.
But he couldn't. Something of his old self wouldn't let him truly reach out and hurt Nadejda. He had promised to protect her. He was her brother, he loved her. Or some part of him still did. He tried to horrify that part with memories of his dead, the burning feeling of her fingers touching him after the death of the one he had named after her. But some part of the old Demyan, a much stronger Demyan than existed now, stayed his hand. Some part of him had to hear her words. Some part of him hoped against all hope and all that he knew from his family, for at least acknowledgement of what had happened, and what she had done in her parts, and how much he hurt for it. But that Demyan didn't exist, the one that wouldn't hurt his sister. The Demyan that was now, the one that was standing in front of her, he wanted nothing more than to hurt her, in the worst ways possible.
He spread his arms, a mockery of a welcome hug. The new scars that covered him, the sores, the bug bites, marks of being beaten by those that didn't care if he was under the protection of a clan he wasn't truly apart of anymore. Yellowed eyes looked out from matted hair, a cruel smirk twisting cracked lips until they bled as he stared into her eyes. His voice was dry as he spoke, his hands already shaking because of how badly he wanted a drink.
"Nadejda."
His fur, the little bit that he still had, fell off in clumps, skin shredding. The wolf screamed, an action that most people wouldn't believe possible, as his jaw violently shortened, and too big teeth ripped through lips that were suddenly too small to contain them. Many shifters were calm with their shifting, controlled. Demyan and his wolf were not in agreement over shifting, each holding tightly drawn battle lines that were sorely contested. The wolf's will fought back, trying to stay as their shared body popped and twisted, bones trying to move but being forced between human and animal in a painful and bloody dance. Muscle shivered and tore, tendons popping before healing in the required forms needed shape. The wolf howled in pain again, as the final bits of the body it wore turned back human.
Demyan didn't want the wolf to go to her. He knew that it would. If Demyan let it have reign, it would sleep outside of Kharityn hall, hoping for a whiff of it's former packmates and trying to survive off of whatever scrap or offal the wolves would throw to him. The wolf didn't understand the humans rage. And that was fine by Demyan. He had enough rage for the both of them. If the wolf couldn't be angry at the pack, then the human would have to take over. He was angry enough at Nadejda. His anger was deep in his heart, and it gave him warmth. It gave him enough warmth to burn entire worlds down. So he stood before her, blood still on his skin, fur at his feet, fists balled up as his lips snarled at her, saliva wet teeth glistening in the pale sunlight. He couldn't think to say anything, not that he didn't have the words. He was just too angry. His vision was tinted red, the anger choking anything he wanted to say in his throat. The only thing that he wore was the necklace, the one thing he never lost during his shift. The red hair tied with the black made an interesting contrast on his pale chest, the falcon feather twirling in the wind. He wanted to tear her apart. He wanted to unmake her for what she had done. And then he could leave or die, and be at some kind of peace.
But he couldn't. Something of his old self wouldn't let him truly reach out and hurt Nadejda. He had promised to protect her. He was her brother, he loved her. Or some part of him still did. He tried to horrify that part with memories of his dead, the burning feeling of her fingers touching him after the death of the one he had named after her. But some part of the old Demyan, a much stronger Demyan than existed now, stayed his hand. Some part of him had to hear her words. Some part of him hoped against all hope and all that he knew from his family, for at least acknowledgement of what had happened, and what she had done in her parts, and how much he hurt for it. But that Demyan didn't exist, the one that wouldn't hurt his sister. The Demyan that was now, the one that was standing in front of her, he wanted nothing more than to hurt her, in the worst ways possible.
He spread his arms, a mockery of a welcome hug. The new scars that covered him, the sores, the bug bites, marks of being beaten by those that didn't care if he was under the protection of a clan he wasn't truly apart of anymore. Yellowed eyes looked out from matted hair, a cruel smirk twisting cracked lips until they bled as he stared into her eyes. His voice was dry as he spoke, his hands already shaking because of how badly he wanted a drink.
"Nadejda."
Re: Birthday Blues
Nadejda waited in the alley, half-crouched down to make the change quicker. It wasn't fun to go from full human to full wolf and get a face full of dirt when she landed on four paws. His smell was floating around, like smoke from a fire wafting around with every breath of the wind. He was coming closer. She could tell that much by the intensity of the smell, that smell that was achingly familiar and painfully foreign all at once. It had been so long since she had seen him.
A black wolf came around the corner, though 'wolf' might be putting it nicely. The creature looked more like a stray dog than anything - shaggy, mangy, thin and starving, smelling of ill health. For a second she simply stared at the beast, not recognizing it as the thing that the family scent was pouring off of, not recognizing her brother for what he was. He had been sleek and shining, the black of night in her coat just like the luster of the moon was in hers. He had been large and powerful where she had been agile and quick. He had been self-assured and loving and steadfast where she was cool and reserved and slow to love. They had been opposites but none had been more perfectly matched - night and day.
As she stared, another howl tore the air, sounding painful. It sounded like him, but what would be causing him pain? He had always been a fluid shifter like herself, not one of the pathetic creatures that screamed their way through the reformation of their bodies. They had been born of the high blood of Kharityn, born wolves, not made. Falling into wolf form was as easy as laughing, like slipping into a cool river on a hot day, as natural as breathing. But it sounded like him... and it was him. She watched in horror as he forced himself into human form, the change seeming like the most painful thing possible, the wolf screaming and making a noise she had never heard any creature make.
He greeted her with open arms, his thin frame and bug-bitten body repulsing her. But when he spoke her name, and when the wind blew more of his scent right to her, she knew it to be him. Her long-lost brother, betrayer of blood and yet still family, standing before her with his arms spread.
"Demy," she whispered in return, letting her usual cool facial expression go. There was no need to be anything but herself with him. He was family. "You look terrible."
A black wolf came around the corner, though 'wolf' might be putting it nicely. The creature looked more like a stray dog than anything - shaggy, mangy, thin and starving, smelling of ill health. For a second she simply stared at the beast, not recognizing it as the thing that the family scent was pouring off of, not recognizing her brother for what he was. He had been sleek and shining, the black of night in her coat just like the luster of the moon was in hers. He had been large and powerful where she had been agile and quick. He had been self-assured and loving and steadfast where she was cool and reserved and slow to love. They had been opposites but none had been more perfectly matched - night and day.
As she stared, another howl tore the air, sounding painful. It sounded like him, but what would be causing him pain? He had always been a fluid shifter like herself, not one of the pathetic creatures that screamed their way through the reformation of their bodies. They had been born of the high blood of Kharityn, born wolves, not made. Falling into wolf form was as easy as laughing, like slipping into a cool river on a hot day, as natural as breathing. But it sounded like him... and it was him. She watched in horror as he forced himself into human form, the change seeming like the most painful thing possible, the wolf screaming and making a noise she had never heard any creature make.
He greeted her with open arms, his thin frame and bug-bitten body repulsing her. But when he spoke her name, and when the wind blew more of his scent right to her, she knew it to be him. Her long-lost brother, betrayer of blood and yet still family, standing before her with his arms spread.
"Demy," she whispered in return, letting her usual cool facial expression go. There was no need to be anything but herself with him. He was family. "You look terrible."
Re: Birthday Blues
Demyan looked down, chuckling softly as he kicked a hunk of fur, still rooted in meat, out of the street into the ditches. His stomach ached, it hurt. He hadn't eaten in so long. Why did his stomach hurt so badly? The wolf. It had eaten, hadn't it? His stomach was stuffed full of his own flesh. Unable to contain the meat, he turned and wretched, red and pink flesh smacking wetly onto the ground. Demyan shuddered, wiping his hand across his face. His stomach and esophagus burned, but he managed to keep anything else down. The wolf growled and scrambled at the bars, frothing for him to eat the meat he had thrown up. They needed the food. Demyan didn't pay attention to his sister, striking himself in the side of the head and growling out. He needed to quiet the wolf. It needed to go back to sleep. It had been allowed to run today, it had felt the fresh air. That was all it was getting. That was all Demyan was going to allow it to have.
Her scent focused him on what he needed. Who he needed to be. Not Demyan the drunk, but he needed to be cold. He couldn't be Demyan the drunk, and he refused to be Demyan the brother. Especially to her. Never to her. He finally turned his head to look at her. So much the same. She looked older, but then again so much time had passed. But it didn't look like she was older from time, more that she was older from stress. The burdens of running the Clan. But what did that matter? If five years had done that to her, he could only imagine how he looked. But she had said he looked terrible... Of course he did. He was a dead man walking. Dead men generally looked terrible after five years. He clutched the falcon feather around his neck before he spoke to her.
"Demy? A bit informal, don't you think, Nadejda?" He smirked, an ugly thing. "If you're going to call me anything, it's Demyan. At least give me the respect of my full name. And I look terrible? One has a hard time keeping up appearances after certain... events."
Her scent focused him on what he needed. Who he needed to be. Not Demyan the drunk, but he needed to be cold. He couldn't be Demyan the drunk, and he refused to be Demyan the brother. Especially to her. Never to her. He finally turned his head to look at her. So much the same. She looked older, but then again so much time had passed. But it didn't look like she was older from time, more that she was older from stress. The burdens of running the Clan. But what did that matter? If five years had done that to her, he could only imagine how he looked. But she had said he looked terrible... Of course he did. He was a dead man walking. Dead men generally looked terrible after five years. He clutched the falcon feather around his neck before he spoke to her.
"Demy? A bit informal, don't you think, Nadejda?" He smirked, an ugly thing. "If you're going to call me anything, it's Demyan. At least give me the respect of my full name. And I look terrible? One has a hard time keeping up appearances after certain... events."
Re: Birthday Blues
He was sickening. Whatever Nadejda had imagined, it hadn't been this. Not retching in the streets, matted and foul. He was filthy and he practically stank of rage... and some other things as well. She wrinkled her nose slightly but then smoothed her expression with a slight sigh.
"We were never formal with each other. However, if you insist, Demyan," she nodded slightly, a chillingly regal dip of the head, "we can be formal." The hate in his voice had almost made her wince, but she'd dealt often with people who hated her since taking leadership of Kharityn. This was no different. She could keep her calm and still deal with him civilly, no problem. Of course, it was also completely different but she could just ignore that for now.
She should have just kept walking to see Ruslan, she cursed herself. Kept walking and ignored the smell of home trailing through the streets, ignored the howls and the cries, ignored this creature standing in front of her.
"If you want to be formal you could put your clothing back on," she observed with a deliberate idleness. "And surely you don't blame me for what happened. I saved your life after you brought your destruction down on yourself. You know clan law as well as the next Kharityn."
"We were never formal with each other. However, if you insist, Demyan," she nodded slightly, a chillingly regal dip of the head, "we can be formal." The hate in his voice had almost made her wince, but she'd dealt often with people who hated her since taking leadership of Kharityn. This was no different. She could keep her calm and still deal with him civilly, no problem. Of course, it was also completely different but she could just ignore that for now.
She should have just kept walking to see Ruslan, she cursed herself. Kept walking and ignored the smell of home trailing through the streets, ignored the howls and the cries, ignored this creature standing in front of her.
"If you want to be formal you could put your clothing back on," she observed with a deliberate idleness. "And surely you don't blame me for what happened. I saved your life after you brought your destruction down on yourself. You know clan law as well as the next Kharityn."
Re: Birthday Blues
His lip lifted, a very wolf like smile on a human face. Fur rippled across his body, dangerously close to losing control of his form. She dared? She dared let the wind waft the smell of disgust from her body, when the only one that should be disgusted with the sight before them was him? She stood there, spouting how she had saved him, decked in regal furs and extravagant dress. She stank, rank and cloying, of power and position. He had always had this suspicion, this wriggling thought in the morass of his mind, that said she had done it. She had told them where the children where at, his wife, so that she could challenge, could get that position. He had never suspected it of her. But seeing her here, the stink of leader, the look on her face, it clicked in his mind as what had happened. She had betrayed him to advance herself. He would be almost proud if he didn't want to eat her heart.
"I would rather have died that day." His voice was rough edged with anger, tinged with sorrow. But then he shook his head, looking at her. "Put on clothing? I don't know if you've noticed Kharityn, but I don't exactly seem to have much. I do not stash spare clothing all over the city in case I need to get dressed." He crossed his arms as he moved a couple steps closer, "Besides, what does it matter? Does something about my new look disturb you?" He picked a tick from his ribs, flicking it off to the side, "I've heard that all the young wolves are trying to get slender for this summer, I'm merely making sure that I keep up with fashion trends."
He laughed at her, still amazed by how easily she had fallen into the role of clan leader. "So tell me, Kharityn, how long did you plan that?" He tilted his head to the side as he looked at her some more. "So easily falling into the role of Clan Leader, your older brother shamed but not dead. What was I? A lesson to the new enemies, to show that you were cold to everyone?" He snorted, turning away. The anger inside him didn't cool, but he knew that pride hated someone turning their backs on it. The next words were half-whispered under his breath, even though he knew she could hear them. "Love can be a brothers greatest mistake."
"I would rather have died that day." His voice was rough edged with anger, tinged with sorrow. But then he shook his head, looking at her. "Put on clothing? I don't know if you've noticed Kharityn, but I don't exactly seem to have much. I do not stash spare clothing all over the city in case I need to get dressed." He crossed his arms as he moved a couple steps closer, "Besides, what does it matter? Does something about my new look disturb you?" He picked a tick from his ribs, flicking it off to the side, "I've heard that all the young wolves are trying to get slender for this summer, I'm merely making sure that I keep up with fashion trends."
He laughed at her, still amazed by how easily she had fallen into the role of clan leader. "So tell me, Kharityn, how long did you plan that?" He tilted his head to the side as he looked at her some more. "So easily falling into the role of Clan Leader, your older brother shamed but not dead. What was I? A lesson to the new enemies, to show that you were cold to everyone?" He snorted, turning away. The anger inside him didn't cool, but he knew that pride hated someone turning their backs on it. The next words were half-whispered under his breath, even though he knew she could hear them. "Love can be a brothers greatest mistake."
Re: Birthday Blues
The white wolf looking out through her eyes took his lupine smile as a challenge and Nadejda outright snarled in return. Though he may be desperate, he was also malnourished and nothing but skin and bone, no trace of the former bulk of muscle on him. He looked like she could thrash him and be home in time for supper, no problem. Of course, she knew better that to judge by looks alone, but she'd held her position for the last five years while he'd been running the streets like a dog.
"Nadejda Nikolaievna to you, wolf," she spat when he started referring to her as Kharityn. "If you're going to demand formalities, you'll get them."
She paused while he spoke, a small part of her taken aback at what he was saying. Was he suggesting that she had turned him over? Didn't he know he left a scent everywhere he went and was easily trackable? His house reeked of him, his children and wife smelled like him - hell, the kids even looked like him, a little. Why would she betray him when he let himself be found so easily without her help?
And the idea that she would turn him over was ludicrous. He was her brother. She'd sooner die than betray family she shared so much blood with. Didn't he know anything? Stupid wolf.
"I don't need to plan anything to show the family what I am capable of. Kasimir was going to have you killed and I stepped in the only way I could to save your life. I don't care if you'd rather have died - you're the one wasting your life now." She turned away but her sharp ears caught his last words.
"Love's not great from my point of view either. You think I saved you to see you end up like this?"
"Nadejda Nikolaievna to you, wolf," she spat when he started referring to her as Kharityn. "If you're going to demand formalities, you'll get them."
She paused while he spoke, a small part of her taken aback at what he was saying. Was he suggesting that she had turned him over? Didn't he know he left a scent everywhere he went and was easily trackable? His house reeked of him, his children and wife smelled like him - hell, the kids even looked like him, a little. Why would she betray him when he let himself be found so easily without her help?
And the idea that she would turn him over was ludicrous. He was her brother. She'd sooner die than betray family she shared so much blood with. Didn't he know anything? Stupid wolf.
"I don't need to plan anything to show the family what I am capable of. Kasimir was going to have you killed and I stepped in the only way I could to save your life. I don't care if you'd rather have died - you're the one wasting your life now." She turned away but her sharp ears caught his last words.
"Love's not great from my point of view either. You think I saved you to see you end up like this?"
Re: Birthday Blues
Demyan snarled back, hackles raised as he whipped around to face her. She thought because she had went to fat she was stronger? She wasn't. In her nice little seat, with her wolves fawning over her like common dogs. Maybe he hadn't eaten well. Maybe he was skin and bone. But he was anger, he was rage. He had fought on these streets to keep where he slept at night, to get the money for the liquor he so desperately needed, to establish some sort of place in the pecking order of scavengers. She thought she was so much better than him, didn't she?
"I'll call you a zhir sukka if I want, and you won't stop me from doing it." He snarled, a flash of yellowed teeth with his words. Did she think that that would work against him? He had taught her how to lie, how to get herself out of trouble, and she thought she was going to lie her way out of this? It wasn't going to work like that. Now with him,. not on him. He was already tired of the lies spewing from her mouth, and wanted them to end. How could his sister have became this? He could remember her with braids, a crown of flowers as they ran through the streets, playing as children. And now she stood before him, the stink of deceit filling his nostrils. Out of everyone, why him? Why had she betrayed him?
He had always protected her. Done anything to make sure she was okay. Did anything to keep her happy. And the one time that he had found happiness, she had helped betray him, had killed his happiness in front of his eyes. And then taken away the end he should have faced. Next to his wife, dying by her side. Following his children into the afterlife. They had burned their bodies, scattering their ashes with the rest of the filth and offal. He didn't even have that. All he had were his little treasures. And he was supposed to be happy with that? He was supposed to be happy with his heart being ripped from his chest and stomped on? He should have crawled on his belly, like a wolf licking their pack leaders chops in subservience? Did his sister even know him at all?
"I didn't ask you to save me." He laughed bitterly, "Wasting my life? What was it that father used to say? 'What is a mans life, if he has no heart in it?'" He shook his head, his bitter scent wafting towards her on the wind, "Speak, zhir sukka. Why did you even come here? To torture me more? Did you think that five years was enough time to try and heal, and you came to tear the wounds open again?"
"I'll call you a zhir sukka if I want, and you won't stop me from doing it." He snarled, a flash of yellowed teeth with his words. Did she think that that would work against him? He had taught her how to lie, how to get herself out of trouble, and she thought she was going to lie her way out of this? It wasn't going to work like that. Now with him,. not on him. He was already tired of the lies spewing from her mouth, and wanted them to end. How could his sister have became this? He could remember her with braids, a crown of flowers as they ran through the streets, playing as children. And now she stood before him, the stink of deceit filling his nostrils. Out of everyone, why him? Why had she betrayed him?
He had always protected her. Done anything to make sure she was okay. Did anything to keep her happy. And the one time that he had found happiness, she had helped betray him, had killed his happiness in front of his eyes. And then taken away the end he should have faced. Next to his wife, dying by her side. Following his children into the afterlife. They had burned their bodies, scattering their ashes with the rest of the filth and offal. He didn't even have that. All he had were his little treasures. And he was supposed to be happy with that? He was supposed to be happy with his heart being ripped from his chest and stomped on? He should have crawled on his belly, like a wolf licking their pack leaders chops in subservience? Did his sister even know him at all?
"I didn't ask you to save me." He laughed bitterly, "Wasting my life? What was it that father used to say? 'What is a mans life, if he has no heart in it?'" He shook his head, his bitter scent wafting towards her on the wind, "Speak, zhir sukka. Why did you even come here? To torture me more? Did you think that five years was enough time to try and heal, and you came to tear the wounds open again?"
Re: Birthday Blues
Nadejda snarled right back at him when he called her names. First off, they were untrue, and second off, really? He'd degenerated into name-calling? Their mother would be so ashamed. He had changed so much, far from the slightly overprotective brother she had known and looked up to. How could he be content with himself as this, this falling-apart, flea-bitten mongrel who was snapping at her like a rabid housedog?
She scoffed at him and shook her head. "Call me whatever you like. I saved your life and have gotten nothing but grief for it from the clan. Go ahead, call me what you want. It'll be no different than anything I've already heard." Granted, she had attacked and killed those who called her names to her face in the clan, and she wasn't going to do that with Demyan, but he didn't need to know that.
Her banishment and mercy shown towards him had not been welcomed by the clan. Kharityn had been extraordinarily restive her first year as leader, and she'd clung to her position with a tenacity that had surprised many clan members. She'd done it for one reason though - if she was killed, Demyan's life was forfeit. With him in the city and the Kharityn wolves under her command, she could ensure his safety. If he left the city and her wolves followed, she would have no power to save him.
"I came here because I smelled you on the wind and I heard your cries and I have done neither of those things in the past few years. I wanted to see what has become of the brother who was once so fierce and strong and bold. Do you think your falcon would be proud to see you like this, to say nothing of mother and father? Your children, would they look up to this wretched creature? There are no wounds to tear open because no part of you has even attempted to heal, and for that you should be ashamed." She looked down her nose at him and then glanced away. He was a disgrace to everything wolf.
She scoffed at him and shook her head. "Call me whatever you like. I saved your life and have gotten nothing but grief for it from the clan. Go ahead, call me what you want. It'll be no different than anything I've already heard." Granted, she had attacked and killed those who called her names to her face in the clan, and she wasn't going to do that with Demyan, but he didn't need to know that.
Her banishment and mercy shown towards him had not been welcomed by the clan. Kharityn had been extraordinarily restive her first year as leader, and she'd clung to her position with a tenacity that had surprised many clan members. She'd done it for one reason though - if she was killed, Demyan's life was forfeit. With him in the city and the Kharityn wolves under her command, she could ensure his safety. If he left the city and her wolves followed, she would have no power to save him.
"I came here because I smelled you on the wind and I heard your cries and I have done neither of those things in the past few years. I wanted to see what has become of the brother who was once so fierce and strong and bold. Do you think your falcon would be proud to see you like this, to say nothing of mother and father? Your children, would they look up to this wretched creature? There are no wounds to tear open because no part of you has even attempted to heal, and for that you should be ashamed." She looked down her nose at him and then glanced away. He was a disgrace to everything wolf.
Re: Birthday Blues
"Don't talk about them don't talk about her blood blood everywhere too much blood babies no longer crying...."
Demyan struck himself in the side of the head, grabbing a handful of lanky hair as she spoke. His falcon. What would she think of him? Did it matter? There would have been no reason for him to be like this, if she had survived. If she had still been here, he wouldn't wake screaming in the night, feeling her hot blood splattering across his face. If his children had survived, he wouldn't hear them every time a babe cried, heart cracking as his memories expected the cries to stop suddenly to the sound of cracking bones. His fingernails clawed at his scalp, tearing bloody furrows that healed almost immediately, pulling out weak hairs that fell to the ground like shed winter fur.
"You think this is weakness?" He laughed, hollowly, bitterly, a tormented man. "This isn't weakness and disgrace Nadi." He dropped his hand, looking at her, "This is punishment." And it was. Did she think that he had just fallen? That his strength had abandoned him? Most of it had, the first year. But it eventually came back. Some of the strength had been through Zoya, and without her, it was gone, and would never return. But he was still as strong as he was, those many years ago. What kind of weak man could force himself to live like Demyan forced himself? What man of weakness could purposely drive himself as close to death as possible everyday, and then use that strength that beat through his bones to hold onto life. Not to live another day, but to punish himself another day, to go as close to death as possible, to create that pain again and again, to brand that into his soul as punishment for his failures. That was not a weak man.
Yes, he was crazy. He had lost most of his sanity. And sometimes he couldn't really tell what he was forcing himself to do, and what was just part of his existence anymore. She wouldn't know about the scars that marched across his body, not from others hurting him, but from himself, bleeding himself to remember that his life was punishment now. Not the kind passed down by Nadejda Kharityn, but by Demyan Kharityn. Her punishment was meaningless to him. Confined to the city, where he could still hear her laugh. Still feel her smile. But the punishment he had put himself through for the past five years, that was pain. That was a true punishment.
"Father can be ripped apart by hunters dogs for all that I care. He's no relative of mine, no matter what this cursed Blood Oath says. As for mother? She knows that she will always have my love and respect, but she also knows that her thoughts are better off as thinking of me as dead."
He laughed at her again, her words fluttering against him like soft snowflakes, nothing sticking to him. She was so foolish. A clan leader, a hard woman if the rumors where to be believed, a killer of wolf who doubted her strength. A small part of him was proud of her for that. At least she was strong. But she wasn't strong enough. She showed her weakness by acting like she wanted him to heal, to return to his former strength. That would be the worst thing to ever happen to house Kharityn. A strong Demyan, with muscle and hatred and cunning, an a wonderfully extensive knowledge of how the clan worked. Who they bought from, who they sold to, their contracts and treaties. No. It was better for everyone that he stayed the way he was. The rabid wolf that snapped and snarled and remembered his hurt with the pain he inflicted on himself. But she was right about one thing. He hadn't made an attempt to heal. He had taken the knife and kept it in his flesh, twisting it every so often to keep it open, the make the pain wash over him again. If he had to live, then he needed that to stay alive. He wasn't ready to face them. Not for a long time. He couldn't look at his son and apologize. He couldn't kiss his daughters forehead and braid her hair in the afterlife. He couldn't look into Zoya's falcon eyes without hearing her last words and smelling the stink of her lifeblood as it mingled on the floor with that of his children.
She didn't realize what his life was like. She didn't realize the fine razor blade he was walking, had been walking for five years. He needed to die. He wanted to die. He had went to the cities edge so many times, feeling his blood beginning to boil in his veins, his organs screaming as they burned, his skin flaking as his body boiled under her orders. And then he would drag himself back into the relative safety of the city lines, because he was too afraid. He was too afraid of what awaited him on the other side, too ashamed to be able to look at the spirits of his family, the true family he had loved, and feel their anger. Or even worse, their forgiveness.
"You didn't come because you smelled me. This city isn't large as some would make it to be. On any given day I can smell the little pups of House Kharityn." He laughed for a brief moment, flashing teeth. Too much teeth, not a smile, a snarl. "Which reminds me, tell them to stay out of the taverns on this side of the city. I'd hate to send... oh what was his name?" Through a fog of alcohol damaged memories it came to him, "I'd hate to send little Anatoly and his friends yelping back home with their tales between their legs again." Truth be told, they had hurt him worse than he had hurt them. But he had hurt them enough, and been able to stand on his feet until they ran. Little Kharityn's, just foolish pups that didn't know better. "But speak! I have been away for a long time, and you did not come here just because you smelled me. You want something."
Demyan struck himself in the side of the head, grabbing a handful of lanky hair as she spoke. His falcon. What would she think of him? Did it matter? There would have been no reason for him to be like this, if she had survived. If she had still been here, he wouldn't wake screaming in the night, feeling her hot blood splattering across his face. If his children had survived, he wouldn't hear them every time a babe cried, heart cracking as his memories expected the cries to stop suddenly to the sound of cracking bones. His fingernails clawed at his scalp, tearing bloody furrows that healed almost immediately, pulling out weak hairs that fell to the ground like shed winter fur.
"You think this is weakness?" He laughed, hollowly, bitterly, a tormented man. "This isn't weakness and disgrace Nadi." He dropped his hand, looking at her, "This is punishment." And it was. Did she think that he had just fallen? That his strength had abandoned him? Most of it had, the first year. But it eventually came back. Some of the strength had been through Zoya, and without her, it was gone, and would never return. But he was still as strong as he was, those many years ago. What kind of weak man could force himself to live like Demyan forced himself? What man of weakness could purposely drive himself as close to death as possible everyday, and then use that strength that beat through his bones to hold onto life. Not to live another day, but to punish himself another day, to go as close to death as possible, to create that pain again and again, to brand that into his soul as punishment for his failures. That was not a weak man.
Yes, he was crazy. He had lost most of his sanity. And sometimes he couldn't really tell what he was forcing himself to do, and what was just part of his existence anymore. She wouldn't know about the scars that marched across his body, not from others hurting him, but from himself, bleeding himself to remember that his life was punishment now. Not the kind passed down by Nadejda Kharityn, but by Demyan Kharityn. Her punishment was meaningless to him. Confined to the city, where he could still hear her laugh. Still feel her smile. But the punishment he had put himself through for the past five years, that was pain. That was a true punishment.
"Father can be ripped apart by hunters dogs for all that I care. He's no relative of mine, no matter what this cursed Blood Oath says. As for mother? She knows that she will always have my love and respect, but she also knows that her thoughts are better off as thinking of me as dead."
He laughed at her again, her words fluttering against him like soft snowflakes, nothing sticking to him. She was so foolish. A clan leader, a hard woman if the rumors where to be believed, a killer of wolf who doubted her strength. A small part of him was proud of her for that. At least she was strong. But she wasn't strong enough. She showed her weakness by acting like she wanted him to heal, to return to his former strength. That would be the worst thing to ever happen to house Kharityn. A strong Demyan, with muscle and hatred and cunning, an a wonderfully extensive knowledge of how the clan worked. Who they bought from, who they sold to, their contracts and treaties. No. It was better for everyone that he stayed the way he was. The rabid wolf that snapped and snarled and remembered his hurt with the pain he inflicted on himself. But she was right about one thing. He hadn't made an attempt to heal. He had taken the knife and kept it in his flesh, twisting it every so often to keep it open, the make the pain wash over him again. If he had to live, then he needed that to stay alive. He wasn't ready to face them. Not for a long time. He couldn't look at his son and apologize. He couldn't kiss his daughters forehead and braid her hair in the afterlife. He couldn't look into Zoya's falcon eyes without hearing her last words and smelling the stink of her lifeblood as it mingled on the floor with that of his children.
She didn't realize what his life was like. She didn't realize the fine razor blade he was walking, had been walking for five years. He needed to die. He wanted to die. He had went to the cities edge so many times, feeling his blood beginning to boil in his veins, his organs screaming as they burned, his skin flaking as his body boiled under her orders. And then he would drag himself back into the relative safety of the city lines, because he was too afraid. He was too afraid of what awaited him on the other side, too ashamed to be able to look at the spirits of his family, the true family he had loved, and feel their anger. Or even worse, their forgiveness.
"You didn't come because you smelled me. This city isn't large as some would make it to be. On any given day I can smell the little pups of House Kharityn." He laughed for a brief moment, flashing teeth. Too much teeth, not a smile, a snarl. "Which reminds me, tell them to stay out of the taverns on this side of the city. I'd hate to send... oh what was his name?" Through a fog of alcohol damaged memories it came to him, "I'd hate to send little Anatoly and his friends yelping back home with their tales between their legs again." Truth be told, they had hurt him worse than he had hurt them. But he had hurt them enough, and been able to stand on his feet until they ran. Little Kharityn's, just foolish pups that didn't know better. "But speak! I have been away for a long time, and you did not come here just because you smelled me. You want something."
Re: Birthday Blues
She snorted indelicately when he punched himself in the head. How pathetic. He was nothing like the wolf she had known, nothing like the Kharityn motto. Stronger better faster, the mantra sang in her head nearly every hour. Stronger better faster Kharityn. That was just how it worked.
He spoke of punishment and she practically laughed. "Inflicting punishment on yourself for something you brought down on yourself means nothing. All that matters is what the clan and family think and how they judge you." It wasn't exactly word-for-word from the Kharityn manifest, but it was fairly close. Wrongdoers were expected to turn themselves in and then be judged by the clan, not inflict punishment on themselves. After all, it was the clan Demyan had wronged, not only himself.
"They do think of you as dead," Nadejda said almost conversationally. "They're very traditional. I'm not. And maybe that's why I'm here. Maybe I know some part of you wants to sit by the fires at night again, on a hunting trip out into the wilds, surrounded by the pack smell and song of your blood born family." She paused for a moment. "If you can look me in the eyes and tell me that you don't miss even a little of it, I will walk away."
Shrugging, she relaced her shirt and pants. He seemed to want to just talk, not fight, and she was perfectly willing to do that. It was certainly less messy. Showing up to talk with Ruslan covered in blood would be crass at the least. If Ruslan still wanted to meet, anyway. It might be better just to go straight to Sashenka Dveshiniya and deal with the matriarch herself. Ruslan ducked his head like a smacked pup when Sashenka raised her eyebrow at him.
"Just tell me that you don't miss the clan one bit, nothing about pack life, and I'll be gone. But if you do, I may have something to offer you." She looked cooly at him, trying to blank him from the place in her mind that screamed brother. He was a wolf who had once been a member of her clan, and she was running a new Kharityn now that her place at the top was finally stable. He was still bloodsworn and therefore, still clan. And so he was not to be given up on.
He spoke of punishment and she practically laughed. "Inflicting punishment on yourself for something you brought down on yourself means nothing. All that matters is what the clan and family think and how they judge you." It wasn't exactly word-for-word from the Kharityn manifest, but it was fairly close. Wrongdoers were expected to turn themselves in and then be judged by the clan, not inflict punishment on themselves. After all, it was the clan Demyan had wronged, not only himself.
"They do think of you as dead," Nadejda said almost conversationally. "They're very traditional. I'm not. And maybe that's why I'm here. Maybe I know some part of you wants to sit by the fires at night again, on a hunting trip out into the wilds, surrounded by the pack smell and song of your blood born family." She paused for a moment. "If you can look me in the eyes and tell me that you don't miss even a little of it, I will walk away."
Shrugging, she relaced her shirt and pants. He seemed to want to just talk, not fight, and she was perfectly willing to do that. It was certainly less messy. Showing up to talk with Ruslan covered in blood would be crass at the least. If Ruslan still wanted to meet, anyway. It might be better just to go straight to Sashenka Dveshiniya and deal with the matriarch herself. Ruslan ducked his head like a smacked pup when Sashenka raised her eyebrow at him.
"Just tell me that you don't miss the clan one bit, nothing about pack life, and I'll be gone. But if you do, I may have something to offer you." She looked cooly at him, trying to blank him from the place in her mind that screamed brother. He was a wolf who had once been a member of her clan, and she was running a new Kharityn now that her place at the top was finally stable. He was still bloodsworn and therefore, still clan. And so he was not to be given up on.
Re: Birthday Blues
"Shut up Nadejda." He was weary. This was taking so much out of him. He hadn't eaten in... he couldn't remember how long. Other than those scraps his other self had scarfed up a moment ago, and even those had soured and been expelled. Too much food at once. And then she had said those words. Those stupid filthy words he had lived his life by for so long, that he had thought to himself every morning when he woke up. The clan was all that mattered. What they thought of you was all that mattered. That he was the son of an important member and had to act like it, that was all that mattered. Didn't she feel the pressure of that? The teeth baring down on her neck, the endless squeeze of the pressure to be perfection? Maybe that was what had broken him back then. With Zoya, he hadn't needed to be perfect. He had just needed to be Demyan. No perfection required. He had felt so free.
Even with Nadi, he had felt the strain. To be a perfect brother. To be a perfect elder in Kharityn, so that she would have him as an example. And how he had failed her. Or at least, that's how they would see it, and probably how she did. But he couldn't see it as that way. His failure had not been in falling in love, had not been in having his children. His failure had been in not protecting them. It had been in his pride, thinking that they would listen to him and allow his children to grow, to accept his wife. He couldn't just tuck his tail and run, leaving the city. If he had, they might still be alive. He could have watched them grow. But his pride, and his love for his sister hadn't allowed that. He couldn't just abandon her. And look where it had gotten him. It had thrown him lower than any, and catapulted her to the second highest ledge she could climb to.
He looked her in the eyes, even though it hurt to do so. It made him so angry, and the small bit of him that did miss it, it made it ache harder. She was his sister. No matter what, some part of him loved her, and missed his family. But he didn't like that part of himself. He wanted that part dead. But he knew he couldn't lie about it. She'd smell it on him, and then she would think that meant she had won again. If she was bound to win anyways, he was going to make it hard on her to realize what her win had cost.
"You know what I miss? It has nothing to do with hunting. Or the smell of our rotten clan, stale blooded and high strung. I miss none of that. I don't miss running for the Clan, surviving on a cup of water and a piece of meat because I didn't have time to eat, meeting with merchants and traders, falling asleep as soon as I got home because of how early I had to wake up to further Kharityn. Why would I ever miss that?" He ran a hand through his hair again, clicking his teeth before he spoke. He was gathering his thoughts, which were all over the place. The pounding need for a drink ran through more than anything else. "I miss lunches with mother. In her little room, with a little sister that loved me. That's about the only thing of that clan that I have, and ever will miss." He shrugged, turning away from her. "But that's a different time, and a different sister. Now go. I'm sure you have important things to do."
Even with Nadi, he had felt the strain. To be a perfect brother. To be a perfect elder in Kharityn, so that she would have him as an example. And how he had failed her. Or at least, that's how they would see it, and probably how she did. But he couldn't see it as that way. His failure had not been in falling in love, had not been in having his children. His failure had been in not protecting them. It had been in his pride, thinking that they would listen to him and allow his children to grow, to accept his wife. He couldn't just tuck his tail and run, leaving the city. If he had, they might still be alive. He could have watched them grow. But his pride, and his love for his sister hadn't allowed that. He couldn't just abandon her. And look where it had gotten him. It had thrown him lower than any, and catapulted her to the second highest ledge she could climb to.
He looked her in the eyes, even though it hurt to do so. It made him so angry, and the small bit of him that did miss it, it made it ache harder. She was his sister. No matter what, some part of him loved her, and missed his family. But he didn't like that part of himself. He wanted that part dead. But he knew he couldn't lie about it. She'd smell it on him, and then she would think that meant she had won again. If she was bound to win anyways, he was going to make it hard on her to realize what her win had cost.
"You know what I miss? It has nothing to do with hunting. Or the smell of our rotten clan, stale blooded and high strung. I miss none of that. I don't miss running for the Clan, surviving on a cup of water and a piece of meat because I didn't have time to eat, meeting with merchants and traders, falling asleep as soon as I got home because of how early I had to wake up to further Kharityn. Why would I ever miss that?" He ran a hand through his hair again, clicking his teeth before he spoke. He was gathering his thoughts, which were all over the place. The pounding need for a drink ran through more than anything else. "I miss lunches with mother. In her little room, with a little sister that loved me. That's about the only thing of that clan that I have, and ever will miss." He shrugged, turning away from her. "But that's a different time, and a different sister. Now go. I'm sure you have important things to do."