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Fear does not stop death. It stops life.
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May 11, 2014 22:24:20 GMT -5
Post by »Image on May 11, 2014 22:24:20 GMT -5
» C H A L A N D R A
"What is your name?"
As she sat beneath the sun considering her response, sheer anger with the place practically consumed her. Einheit, as she'd been quick to determine, was nothing more than endless stretches of sand and even longer lengths of empty, empty time. Everything lingered here. There was nothing to be done with a respect to typical constraints, and the stifling air weighed activities down as if driven steadily heavier by the beating sun. To top the whole thing off, the damn heat was everywhere. It followed her when she hunted for her appointed alpha and when she laid down for an afternoon nap, should Sinead the Great be so considerate of her sklavin's needs. It was both in the depths of the dens and above the cavernous ground, in her thick forest fur and in every long, scratching breath that was equal parts necessity and want. It was, like Sinead's current reign, inescapable.
"Chalandra."
The voice was like rocks as it spoke, grating and hoarse against the stillness of the desert. It almost sounded like a cry for help, a quick staccato note where three long syllables had once been slurred. There wasn't a trace of reverberation either and the noise simply ceased to be, swallowed by the great vastness of the sand and grains that stretched out around the pair of wolves. From above, the harsh sunlight beat down relentlessly if not unnaturally strong, yet the she-wolf's blinks were slow and her breathing slower still; she had in some way become acclimated to the environment over the weeks of her enslavement. With her blue eyes narrowed downward, Chalandra explained further before waiting for a further command.
"My name is Chalandra."
From the beginning of the whole process, she had avoided giving Sinead her name. Chalandra herself wasn't even sure why exactly, but she held it unreasonably close to her, as if to share it with the Einheit alpha would spoil it or change it in some fashion. Maybe in some way, it had been her one last stand for freedom: deny what her oppressor wanted the most. Every morning Sinead had asked her the same question. And every morning she had been greeted with the same, stinging silence that only Chalandra's arrogant brows and challenging stare could contrive. She had been beat, she had been scratched, she had been run--run until her lungs screamed wildly and she collapsed from the effort. But she had not given in. Not until now. This morning she'd woken up with different thoughts on her mind, thoughts of compliance and less agony at resisting the inevitable. There was a strong, beating desire to save not only herself, but the rumblings of life she felt growing within.
Two whole moons she had been stuck in this god-forsaken land as a true sklavin through and through, with nothing more than her own grit to survive with. She'd been on her own in dealing with Sinead's temper and wild demands until quite recently, although she wasn't sure the new sensation was anything but a rather negative addition to the whole scenario. Chalandra, with all the current mix of misgivings, wasn't even sure it had been real. She'd first felt the kick in her stomach a few days ago (although it could have been more, since she always lost count of the rising sun after three or four times before she'd be resigned to begin the count anew for sanity's sake) and the suddenness of it had startled her so bad that she'd yelped out loud during a hunt. The annoyance had cost her a sharp swat over the ears and Chalandra's pelt had burned with a mix of self-pity and anxious uncertainty. She couldn't be. She simply couldn't be. The possibly of being pregnant had never been a fear of hers previous to then, and the sheer surprise of the whole ordeal threatened to knock her over like another dreaded heat wave.
Whatever the outcome would be, Chalandra forced herself to think of other things. Her mind almost immediately drifted to thoughts of water. She had been a whole day without water, due to her inability to hold back a snarl at Sinead for one thing or another the day before. It was always something she messed up. She didn't greet her dominor correctly, she was too slow at daily sprints, or the inadequacy of a hunt was her fault--even the lack of a real pack could be attributed to her presence. Chalandra inhaled quietly, now trying to ignore the black speckles that danced at the edge of her vision. The desert's glistening golden grains shifted and tilted in her vision for a moment before realigning themselves. And still, she waited. In a sense, she'd not only grown comfortable with the environment in her time here (if comfortable was what this kind of functioning was), but almost wildly accepting of her role in Einheit's ranks. And amongst everything else, her previous thoughts and temptations regarding Nirco had dwindled to nothing other than a faded, dark figure that slipped in and out of her dreams. He was without a face, without features, without that silent, brooding personality that she'd relished all those breaths ago. He was nothing, and here, in this place, neither was she.
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“The poets leave hell and again behold the stars.”
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May 12, 2014 1:13:39 GMT -5
Post by ⋆Ravɛn on May 12, 2014 1:13:39 GMT -5
SINEAD
There wasn’t much in Einheit. There was sand, certainly - hard and packed in some places, soft and forgiving in others. There were a few rocks, a tiny trickle of a stream, and exactly two barren, dead trees on the other side of the water. But aside from that, the place was empty. Desolate. It was a wasteland. And funnily enough, Sinead loved it. But she could certainly see why everyone else didn’t.
To be fair, none of the other packs were exactly booming with activity, either. She had heard very little from any of the borders. But that didn’t ease her strain. She needed a pack…more of a pack than two sklavins, one practically nonexistent and the other a complete pain in the rear, anyways. Not that Sinead minded Merona rarely showing her face, aside from the occasional hunt she joined in on, or when she would creep into the dens late at night to sleep. She had been more than glad to grant the sklavin as much liberty as she could, allowing her to tend to her own devices. For some reason, Sinead liked Merona. She liked her silence, and she liked her gentle demeanor. So she didn’t bother her. Besides, with the new nameless thorn-in-the-paw she-wolf wandering around, it wasn’t like Sinead could blame Merona for being missing in action.
From her place on the large mound of sand overlooking the dens, Sinead yawned and stretched, reveling in the way her muscles trembled and flexed. Thoughts of the nameless vixen made her skin crawl with agitation; she truly had been a paw full. And it wasn’t exactly that she was nameless, per say… but Sinead hadn’t been able to get a name out of her, no matter how cruelly she punished her or how hard she worked her. Sinead had mockingly dubbed her Thorn, because the female truly was a thorn in her side. But breaking her down was giving Sinead practice, not to mention something to do. For the most part, the girl had improved. In the beginning, she was slow and defiant, making hunts and generally any time spent in her presence extremely annoying. So Sinead had punished her, physically as well as verbally. She had ran her, beaten her, made her work her tiny tail off for food and water. She had denied her sleep, denied her comfort, denied her even the smallest luxuries. Eventually, the she-wolf had begun to toughen up. She ran longer, pushed further, contributed more in hunts…but still she would not give Sinead her name.
”Chalandra. My name is Chalandra.”
Sinead, who had been perilously close to sleep, opened her eyes and lifted her head. The silvery she-wolf stood at the base of the mound, staring up at her with those pale blue eyes. Her tone lacked the familiar scathing edge that Sinead was used to, and for once, her posture didn’t scream arrogance. Slowly, the alphess rolled from her side onto her feet, shaking glistening dust from her silver-gold pelt as she appraised the she-wolf.
”So you finally decided to come around, aye Thorn?” She asked, relishing in using the nickname one final time. She was sure that Chalandra hated it, but now she at least had something to replace it with. Which meant that she was finally, finally coming around. After weeks of forceful attempts, Sinead was successful. A surge of pride and relief rushed through her as she bounded forward, sliding down the pile of sand , spraying tiny grains everywhere as she came to a halt before Chalandra. The sklavin was taller than her by just a few inches, but Sinead was slightly broader, and carried herself with an air of authority that made her seem almost larger, so that the two were nearly eye-to-eye.
”Chalandra,” she repeated, for the sole sake of showing the female that she would no longer mockingly be called Thorn. It was a step up. A small one, granted, but significant enough. ”A tad bit delayed, but I won’t complain too much.”
She paused then, considering the past few days as she looked out across the hot, sweltering desert. Her most recent punishment for Chalandra had been denying her trips to the stream; extreme, yes, but apparently effective. The silver she-wolf had been quieter, more subdued, and Sinead had long ago decided that it was a sign of her weakening. Now, for her obedience, she could be rewarded.
”I was just about to take a trip to the stream. Come.” Without waiting for a response, Sinead turned and trotted away from Chalandra, knowing that the female would surely follow. As an afterthought, the alphess threw over her shoulder, ”I may even allow you to bathe. I take it you’ve finally decided obedience is your best option?”
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May 13, 2014 18:53:36 GMT -5
Post by »Image on May 13, 2014 18:53:36 GMT -5
» C H A L A N D R A
”So you finally decided to come around, aye Thorn?”
At the sound of the nickname Sinead had created for her, Chalandra raised her lips to flash her white teeth--if only to indicate that the situation wasn't completely out of her control. She'd now given up the one thing she'd been protecting, and in that moment she felt the loss of Nirco as freshly as when she'd left him in the midst of that brewing storm and meadow grass. She realized with a jolt that she'd been preserving herself in the same manner as her name, saving herself from the heartache of letting the black male leave with the comfort she'd known. She had never wanted to give up. She'd never wanted to walk away and never turn around. But he wasn't here, she wasn't there, and the distance between them stretched too far to make up her sudden awareness of heart. And just like she couldn't return to Nirco now, she also couldn't take back the lyrical combination of sound that was her namesake. Damn.
Sinead made a move to slide carefully down the array of pebbles she'd been situated on, and Chalandra stepped respectfully back for her alpha. The two she-wolves stood there then, for a moment or maybe longer, as if sizing the other up. Chalandra, while taller than her dominor, was by far the skinnier, lankier wolf. Her hips were more pronounced than they had been upon her arrival, and in contrast to Sinead's broad shoulders and chest, made the silver-grey fur look disagreeable at best. Chalandra's eyes narrowed steadily at Sinead's blue-green ones. And then, for a moment, she thought she glimpsed a hint of mild acceptance, but the perception was whisked away just before Sinead finally broke the silence and spoke.
”Chalandra,”
Was that some form of vindication in her voice? Or possibly a hint of satisfaction?
”A tad bit delayed, but I won’t complain too much.”
Unsure of how to respond to something other than the pushing of pressure points, Chalandra simply dipped her head as a sign of her understanding. Sinead then paused, as if considering a deep thought, and Chalandra let her mind wander back to the feeling of another that had seemingly grown inside of her overnight. There was only one male she'd been with recently that it could be. And for all she knew, he was out roaming around with another rogue female or already had a stable mate by his side. Not that it bothered her per say--she had known from the start what she was getting into--but the solitude only refreshed her ultimate longing for Nirco, which was something she'd been trying to smother for weeks now. No luck yet.
At least he was good looking. It was a mediocre attempt at humor to cheer herself, and still the nerves of the ordeal still threatened to rise above the calm demeanor she'd been working with.
”I was just about to take a trip to the stream. Come.”
Cha plodded along after her alpha, tail sinking into the rank worthy of a sklavin. She was exhausted, and even with the grant of water she struggled to find the means to move like the proud creature she had once been. The pair moved leisurely over the desert ground, two shadows inching across the blazing sands and rock peaks. Time reached out before Chalandra and in unison the destination seemed to shift further away with the more steps she took.
”I may even allow you to bathe. I take it you’ve finally decided obedience is your best option?”
Chalandra was hesitant to respond, with her heart beating out one reply and her heat pounding out another. She desperately wanted to refuse the offer point blank, tell Sinead to shove her noble opinion and authoritative leadership where Iudex himself would never find it... But at what cost would that single moment of amusement bring her? Or, dare she even acknowledge it, her unborn pups? Being beaten for such a comment wouldn't get her anywhere, that much she'd picked up already. With the thoughts weighing heavily on her shoulders, she quietly echoed the sentiments of her rank.
"Loyalty only to Einheit and to you, Alpha Sinead."
And then, as if explaining herself, she made an even softer addition.
"I will accept my place from this point forward."
The bitterness of the situation rose steadily before fading into absolute nothingness. Chalandra, her mind drifting over the prod in her stomach, was lost to the desert. Her mouth was drier than it ever had been, and the world was monotone in her vision, a mixture of gold tones and off-orange hues where few shadows fell. She could hear the distant, faint trickling of a stream. She could feel Nirco drifting further and further away. And yet, she could also feel herself still moving on, paw step by paw step, breath by breath. She could once again feel her lungs, how they filled and emptied air.
In a single blink, she knew of nothing other than those three things: the presence of water, the lack of Nirco, and the steady life that still was. Just let me live.
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