Diarmuid always preferred traveling at night. He could move freely now, without interruption. The shadows masked his movements, and hid him from watchful eyes. Who knew what sort of wolves lurked in the distance? While it was doubtful that enemies of the Xanilovs - or of Old Ebony - had traveled this far, it was always a possibility that kept him wary. Each step that he took through the thicket was taken with precise caution. It was the sort of caution that most wolves could not possess even if they tried. Years of training had taught him to move with such grace, an alarming amount for a male of his size. His steps were nearly as quiet as a mouse as he moved his paws through the thick grasses, ambling forward quietly.

He thought he'd caught a trace of one of the children's scents earlier, but it had been too faint to tell for certain. Perhaps he had just been hoping it was so. A quiet, barely audible exhalation of breath fell from his lips as his crimson gaze searched the night. Diarmuid had deduced that the children would likely continue in the general direction they had been heading in, not turn back toward home - so he, too, would travel the same path in search of them.

Guilt bore down on him, heavy and grating, and he was not ashamed to admit that he felt as though he had failed them. He had promised Valeriya that he would keep her children safe, and he had lost track of them. It had not been on purpose - he would never leave them without being commanded, until his dying breath - but it didn't mean that he was not at fault still. He had not found any sign of the other guardsmen, either, and it was all he could do to hope that they had managed to keep with the party. The thought of them being alone was uncomfortable - to say the very least. He could imagine now the sort of words she might have for him if he returned, empty handed. 'I don't know where they are,' he would say, and she would reply with.. well, he didn't know. All he knew was that he missed Valeriya deeply - as much as he missed her children. Being without them was difficult and far from ideal for him. Not finding the children simply wasn't an option.

All he could do, now, was continue on. Nothing would stop his search, perhaps not even death; not that he'd ever been one to believe in an afterlife, but if there was one he was certain he would find some way to serve the Xanilov family the best he knew how even in that realm. The thought brought a half-smile to the scarred beast's face, a rare expression caught in a shaft of moonlight as it glimmered from the heavens above. It wasn't long before the smile faltered, determination once again taking over as he plunged deeper into the thicket and continued his cautious journey onward.

note: set in gambit briar

Phim knew loneliness. She watched her parents die, for crying out loud. The two people she loved most in the world were torn from her when she was just barely able to stand on her own two feet, ripped to shreds by a lunatic with no motive more than bloodlust driving her. Phim tried to remember as seldom as possible, but lately it was hard to stop. The pain of losing her parents was excruciating, but what she felt at losing Dai was indescribable.

Where the image of her parents death was clear in her mind, the events leading to losing Dai were hazy. She couldn't even remember what they had been doing that day, or what the land around them looked like. They were attacked and they ran - or, at least, she thought they had at the time. But when she finally stopped to breathe she was alone. Phim hadn't known where she was or how long she ran. Nothing was familiar. Of course, she spent the next several days searching for her twin, but no sign of him turned up. She couldn't even find the place they'd been attacked because she had forgotten the details in her flight. Heartbroken and hungry, she did the only thing she could. She went home.

The same questions as last time plagued her, though. Was this even home? She was born here, her family had once thrived here, but she'd spent more time wandering with Dai than settled anywhere. Maybe she had no home at all, and now Phim was both homeless and alone. But - she reminded herself - if Dai was alive, this was where he would go. It was the only place they truly had the roots to find each other again. And while she was falling apart without him, she didn't believe he was dead. They could feel each other's emotions and practically read each other's minds, so she would have to feel it if he was dead... right?

Once again, her thoughts had consumed her and she'd wandered into questionable territory. The stab of a thorn brought her to a senses and drew a high-pitched yelp from her. Phim glanced around her at the barely-there path she stood on and the plants that grew over and around it, then turned her attention to the small wound on her leg. With a sigh, she sat back and began nursing her injury while she contemplated where to go from here.


speech

"OW SON OF A-" Karabela froze in her forward movement and turned to glare at her hind right leg which was now sporting a magnificent scratch along the knee where she'd miscalculated a step. Why the hell had she decided to navigate into this mess anyway? Curiosity? Stupidity? Maybe she just saw the briars and thought you know what would be a test of awesomeness? Navigating through this mess. Carefully Karabela set her hind leg back down. While others might consider night a poor time to be navigating through a patch of briar's Raba felt it was rather the perfect time as she glanced towards the sky her gaze fixing on the big dipper. She found it easier to navigate by constellations. With several points in the sky she could better triangulate her position and her direction than relying on the singular point of the sun during the day. Ok, time to keep moving. She'd suffered worse pain than this. This was nothing. Making a silent bet on how many scratches she'd emerge with she vowed to make it through this. She could make it through anything.

Movement and a yelp caught her attention. Wow, there was someone else crazy enough to be trying this stunt? Carefully, slowly Karabela threaded her way north until she came across another dark-pelted female. "Oh, hey there! I see I'm not the only one that likes to live dangerously."

"Speech"

Each step was as precise as the last, taken with the most extreme caution. It didn't matter to him that it was highly unlike he'd be ambushed here, in this strange thicket; each day was taken with the same heed no matter the circumstances. The briars that snagged on the fur of his limbs as he walked didn't bother him terribly, for example. They were more irritating than painful, though each sharp briar that tugged at his coat was a simple reminder of his task at hand, rather than any sort of hindrance to him. Diarmuid wore a plain, simple expression as he moved - it was void of much other than determination. His gait only slowed when he heard something that sounded suspiciously like pawsteps, in the distance. The rustling of vegetation was an obvious sound, and he would slow to a halt as his head lifted, nose twitching as he tested the air. He hardly caught a whiff of the scent before he heard a careless yelp, echoing through the darkness of night clearly. A slight frown touched his lips, though it disappeared almost as soon as it had arrived. It was obvious now that this stranger didn't intend to sneak up on him - and if that was their goal, they were doing an absolutely horrid job. Curious, he would turn toward the sound, continuing to move as quiet as physically possible as he navigated around the thicket. It didn't take long at all for the stranger's scent to find him, and it took even less time for him to hear another woman's voice sound in the night. Though his body urged him to turn the other direction, he couldn't help but wonder at the same time if they might have any information on the children. Somewhat begrudgingly, he would move toward the two - stopping a fair distance away to get a better look at them. His posture held no threat, but he stood tall and sure, his head lifting as he stared at the two women. "Not sure if you two could be much louder," he'd offer, a half-serious sort of greeting, his nose wrinkling. "Is this always such a popular place this time of night?" Surely there must be a better place to hang out, no? He'd only traveled this way because he thought he'd been chasing a familiar scent, but he'd come up short thus far. "Talk" "You" Think

The first to come upon the wounded Phim was another young female. She blended in well with the darkness, but she did nothing else to conceal herself. Rather, she announced her presence loudly and immediately. Phim couldn't help but smile. Sure, it was odd that anyone would be out in this mess so late, and alone at that, but she obviously couldn't judge. Unfortunately, Phim made a habit of wandering around at night, often ending up in strange places and forgetting how she'd gotten there in the first place. She didn't sleep walk or have a memory disorder. She simply didn't pay attention, focusing too much on the thoughts dancing around her mind and too little on her surroundings.


Still, it was odd that she'd managed to get so deep into the briar and only just now end up stabbed. She'd have to thank her subconscious later.


"I wouldn't say that I, personally, like to live dangerously so much as stupidly," she replied with a blush. It was always so embarrassing when she got caught. "I'm Phim, and it's very nice to meet you." And it was very nice. After all, Phim had no idea how she'd gotten where she was, so she could certainly use a helping hand back out.


A rustle, closely followed by a second voice, drew her attention. A male this time approached, but stopped a little further away. He was clearly judging them, though she wasn't certain why. Who cared if they were loud? Not like anything was going to come all the way out in this mess to attack them. Her smile thinned out of irritation, but it didn't disappear. If Phim was truly good at anything, politeness was one. "It certainly appears that way," she said sweetly, brushing past his first comment. She could be polite, but she wouldn't lie. And she also wouldn't offer her name to this one just yet. She tended to offer her name quickly to avoid seeming rude, but when she was annoyed or upset she would sometimes wait a beat. Most wolves wouldn't notice the "slight" or be bothered, but it gave Phim satisfaction anyway.


speech

Karabela half thought about offering to help the woman out with her injuries but she was no healer and only had a vague idea of herbs used in tending wounds. As a warrior she'd certainly been treated enough but she was wary of doing more harm than good. Beside she wouldn't even know where to find the plants, especially out in this crazy thorny laybrinth she seemed to have gotten herself into.

Raba chuckled at the woman's response. "Nice to meet you too Phim. My name is Karabela though most wolves just call me Raba." A rustle caught her attention as she turned to see a large, scarred male make his entrance. Oh now this was interesting! He looked like someone that would be fun to fight under circumstances that didn't involve getting shredded to ribbons while sparring in a thorn bush. She grinned at the man. "You think that was loud, you should hear me yodel!"

She nodded in agreement to Phim's statement. "So who might you be? Are all those scars from wandering into prickly places in the dead of night or are you some kind of warrior?"

"Speech"

If either of the women seemed less than pleased to meet him, he was blissfully unaware of it. His features were a solid picture of calmness, tinged with determination - and a barely noticeable tinge of irritation which fell from his face almost as quickly as he spoke to the strangers. The older of the two spoke quickly, and succinctly, giving him little to go off of. Dual-colored eyes, orange and red, watched her for a moment before turning to the younger woman, who seemed a bit more wordy. Karabela's demeanor seemed a bit more genuinely friendly, and he'd nod and grunt a soft greeting to her. Though personally unaffected by her sense of humor that she'd displayed, he was grateful at least one of them seemed to be friendly. "My name is Diarmuid," the brute replied with ease. Though he kept to himself, his name was no secret, and he would offer it proudly. Especially if it meant bringing him one step closer to the Xanilov children. "My scars are of no concern to you." His voice was matter-of-fact and without aggression, though it was likely the tone said more than his answer might've. It would do him no good to upset these two when they could very well have valuable information to him. "Pardon me for interrupting your.. meeting. Have either of you come across any wolves recently with the surname Xanilov?" Perhaps they would be willing to share, and if not.. he could come up with some way to pull the information from them, he decided. "Talk" "You" Think

A giggle escaped Phim without warning at Raba's joke and brought a genuine smile back to her face. It was only then, as Raba acknowledged the stranger, that she noticed the scars that riddled his body. He made it clear that he didn't want to talk about it, but true to her nature he curiosity was piqued. Phim enjoyed a good mystery and she always loved the stories behind them. She could only hope to somehow now befriend the brute who had so rudely interrupted them to get to the bottom of this new puzzle.


Her attention sharpened at his question. The name sounded familiar to her and it took her a moment to determine why. Before... Well, before everything went wrong, her parents had taken her and Dai to a festival at a neighboring pack. She had met Xanilovs there, she was certain of it. "Actually, yes, she replied, her eyes bright. "I believe that some resided in a pack called Yfir, but it's been many years since I met them. I was only a pup then. The pack was strong, so I'm sure it could still be thriving here." She glanced at Raba then, waiting to see if her new acquaintance knew anything more.


ooc;; sorry so short, raii is ill


speech

Karabela pretended to pout at the mans rebuttal. "Fine, fine, I see how it is." Well if he didn't want to tell her about his scars she could give him one herself and know exactly where at least one came from. He introduced himself as Diarmuid and asked a rather specific question regarding the Xanilov's. She knew a few but why did this man care? "Yes, but that's of no concern to you." She winked at the man and laughed but the other woman would spoil her fun stating that they were in Yfir. She nodded in agreement then frowned. "Well… were in Yfir. Their packlands have gone quiet but if you search you may be able to find a few traces of them." She couldn't be sure and she hadn't stuck around long to try and follow any trails. She hadn't been particularly close to any Xanilov's that she could think of.

For a moment she wondered if that had been the surname of her supposed father. Was it Xanilov? She knew the mans name was Lyonovei but… no, no that was Volkov, not Xanilov. Huh… how funny, she'd never really bothered to think about her father until now. Not that it mattered. She wasn't even sure why she'd label the glorified sperm donor as 'father' anyway. "I'd ask why you're looking for them but I'm sure you'll tell me it's none of my business, right?"

"Speech"

Diarmuid's gaze was calculated as he watched the two of them. The older of the two spoke first, initially laughing at Karabela's quip, which elicited little more than a furrowed brow from him. He was in no mood for jokes, not that he tended to be the kind to joke much in the first place. His demeanor, solemn and a bit cold, seemed to brighten at her response. Actually, yes, she started, explaining she'd met some.. many years before. His dual-colored eyes still grew more vibrant and full of life; if some Xanilovs were in these lands, perhaps Valeriya's children might find somewhere safe to stay until he found them. Or perhaps these Xanilovs were long gone - maybe she even meant Valeriya, for he knew she had not been born near his homelands. Interest sparkled in his steady stare as the younger wolf, Karabela, spoke then. Her demeanor seemed a bit more lighthearted, but the time for silliness was far behind him. She seemed to be in agreement that some Xanilovs had been near these parts, but not the ones he was looking for. A faint, hardly audible sigh fell from his lips as his tightened jaw slackened. "I'm searching for a group of young Xanilov children," he explained slowly, knowing the information wouldn't put any of them in harms way. "They may very well be traveling with a few older wolves." He'd eye them, searching for any sort of reaction from them; if they'd seen a band of yearlings traveling, hopefully they might offer him a bit of info. "I caught their scents nearby. I was traveling with them, but lost them during a storm. Been searching ever since." How long had it been, anyway? A few weeks? Perhaps a whole season? Come to think of it, the weather had been considerably less pleasant when he'd seen them last. God, Valeriya was going to kill him, if he didn't die trying to find them first. "Talk" "You" Think

Phim's face fell a bit at Raba's revelation. Yfir was gone. It was simply one more thing lost from her old life, one less tie to these lands. Yet she wouldn't leave. For whatever reason, Phim had convinced herself that being here, in these lands, was the safest thing for her, despite knowing that all other lands offered the same promise of loneliness. But she was the perfect example of the draw back to this place. Even if thei pack broke up, they probably didn't leave. She found herself nodding as Raba explained that he may still be able to catch a scent, but her face still contorted with disappointment.

"Oh, the ones I met were a little older than me. Sorry we couldn't be more help." He seemed cold and arrogant, but she felt pity for this situation. For all she knew, he was as alone and family-less as she was. And even the cold felt loneliness.


speech

My, my he was a serious one, wasn't he? Karabela didn't let it bother her and decided to lay off him a bit. Clearly his mind was on other things and while Raba did enjoy needling random grumps and melancholy souls she knew there was a time and place to back off. She shook her head. "Sorry, I'm afraid I haven't seen any Xanilov children." She doubted she could be of any more help to this man. Karabela wracked her brain but was pretty certain she hadn't seen any and a litter was bound to have at least one with the Xanilov 'mask' and she couldn't recall seeing any pups with such a marking.

Karabela nodded at Phim's words. "Aye, I wish you luck in finding them though. I'll try to keep an eye out for them."

"Speech"

Disappointment hit him suddenly, like an invisible force knocking the wind right out of him - not that his expression gave any of that away. Neither of them had seen the children. He'd eyed each of them carefully, calculating their responses. If they were lying, even slightly, he was sure he might see some indicator, but nothing seemed off about their replies. They both offered that they knew of some Xanilovs, but not the ones he was seeking. A sigh hitched in his throat, though the sudden weight of disappointment slowly turned to steady resolve. He would find them, or he would die trying, and he had full intentions of living the rest of his days serving Valeriya and her children. Dying early would not further that cause. At the very least, the fact that some Xanilovs lived here gave him a glimmer of hope. With them, at least they would be safe, if they had gotten separated from the rest of the guards. He murmured something in low appreciation as they spoke to him. "Thank you, ladies," he offered, dipping his head low to the ground in a slight bow before facing them each in turn. "Your time is appreciated. If you see anyone who fits the description I gave you, please let them know Diarmuid is looking for them. I wish you both well." Though he hadn't gotten much information out of them, it was better than bad information. He'd nod once again in a silent farewell, giving them each a final glance and imprinting their faces to memory before turning and heading the direction he had originally been intent upon. "Talk" "You" Think