Philomena took a breath. She was farther today than she’d ever been from the densite… but it was important that she press forth. The female wanted to find more followers for the The Deliverance… but who would follow her? What reasons would they have? The female sighed softly. Had her father had this much trouble when creating Dragoste…? Or had he just gone for it? In fact… she was hoping that visiting the old lands their pack had called home might be what she needed to reach out to her father in Somnium again. She wanted to see him again… but Philomena wasn’t sure if that was how the world of the dead, mingling in the dreams of the living, worked. Hell… how did anything in life and death work?

But Philomena stopped cold.

Scent markers.

Scent markers around her old home.

The female whined, mixed feelings of wanting to press forward to find her father’s grave and respecting the back boundary. She swallowed hard, feeling tears prick at her eyes. She felt angry too. Angry that someone had claimed her home. This… this was Dragoste. Where she’d been born. She’d never accept these woods as anything else.

The scents were foreign at least… and didn’t seem to remind her of the Abraxas. But that made things more complicated. Philomena flicked her ears against her skull… they probably didn’t know the history of this land. Didn’t know her birthpack had been here… about her family.

Philly hesitated, looking lost as she stared across the border with tears of frustration and hurt in her eyes.

This wasn’t fair...

""

WITH YOUR FEET IN THE AIR AND YOUR HEAD ON THE GROUND Alright, so perhaps he had been a bit late to begin his patrol. He had woken up groggy, and spent far too long trying to get up. Thus, he was travelling the outskirts of the weeping woods at a rather quick pace. Dark paws pounding the dirt, checking up on his usual rounds. Nothing out of the ordinary, it smelled like piss and wolf. That was how it should be, as far as he was concerned. He began to slow his pace to a steady trot, attempting to catch his breath. There was someone here. A stranger, who was almost certainly not invited. She was big, very big. Almost certainly larger than his elder brother. She also had a strange mane on her head, like a horse. He'd seen a few wild ones roaming about over the course of his young life, and that was the closest thing he could relate it to. Was this a horse-wolf? Cautiously, he approached her. She smelled foreign, and thus he wasn't eager to give off a welcoming vibe. She was rather close to trespassing. However, he was ready to write it off as a mistake, since she looked pretty distressed. "Something I can help you with?" he questioned her gruffly, one brow quirked. As willing as he was to be nice, when someone appeared at the borders it was his duty to serve as the first line of defense. Head held high, he couldn't hope to intimidate someone of her stature. However, confidence was key, right? "speech"

Art by pimsri

A stranger came.

A stranger on the side of the border her father once stood on. Philomena looked at him for a long moment, body trembling. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. He didn’t look threatening… nor did he look welcoming. To him she was a stranger… a stranger at the borders of his home. It made her stomach churn.

For a long moment Philomena stared at him, not speaking. Then, at last, as if the Gods granted her the ability to speak anew the female managed to form what she wanted to say. “This was Dragoste.” The name likely meant nothing to him. He didn’t look like any of the wolves she remembered from her childhood.

“This was my home.” The female could feel her heart breaking more with each word. “My father… he has a grave here.” The female whined softly. “Please tell me, in the claim of this land, it remains undisturbed?” This was an important thing for the female. Sure her father was gone, and she had seen him Somnium… but she feared what might happen should the gravesite be destroyed. Would that destroy her father’s link to this realm?

Philomena averted her gaze. She felt weak. Vulnerable. Sick.

She hated this feeling.

“I need to know… please…” Her voice sounded desperate, almost broken. If she couldn’t cross the border due to a pack being there then the woman at least had to know that her father’s grave was safe.

""

WITH YOUR FEET IN THE AIR AND YOUR HEAD ON THE GROUND The pair stared at one another in silence. Emerald against crystalline blue. Maybe he should have been a bit nicer. It was obvious from the glassiness of her eyes that she wasn't having a great day to begin with. She gawped like a fish out of water for a moment or two, before something finally squeaked past her lips. “This was Dragoste.” she finally said, soft as a whisper. Ah, shit. Next, “This was my home.” she clarified, as though the heartbreak weren't obvious. His brother hadn't stolen these lands from another, had he? That didn't sound like Branch. “My father… he has a grave here.” Double ah shit. She was practically crying, right here on his doorstep. Perhaps this is why no one liked border patrols. You found random horse-wolves crying in the weeds. “Please tell me, in the claim of this land, it remains undisturbed?” there was desperation in her voice now, cerulean gaze boring into his own. "I.. I couldn't tell you, ma'am." he replied honestly, lips pulled into a tight line. This was awkward as hell. She looked away from him after a few seconds of trying to.. he wasn't sure. Make his brain explode with her eyes? That was a pretty intense look, and he was kind of an idiot when it came to this kind of stuff. He'd never lost anyone, and had to bury them. Never had to find the site of their burial claimed by strangers. This was all new ground for him. “I need to know… please…” she pleaded softly. "Let me just, uh, call my brother. He'll be able to tell you better than I can." he mumbled, brows pinched in a tight look of concern. Pausing to give her a final look, he then tipped his head back to summon his brother. This was definitely above his pay grade. Branch, little help here! he thought to himself. "speech"

Art by pimsri

He was having a busy morning, preparing things for the upcoming winter. He wanted to be sure they had enough supplies, enough food, and that everyone was properly settled into their new homes. Making sure if they needed warm skins to line their den that they would get them. Plus he had been making work with gaining alliances from fellow packs, hoping to secure his pack's safety and neutrality. He would need to hold a meeting soon, to discuss the sacred places within the territory, to tell of the alliances, and to see if anyone had any suggestions or ideas. So much to do and he felt he had so little time to get everything done.

His brother's call from the borders was unexpected, but he didn't waste any time. Abandoning his current task and quickly picking up his pace to get there as quickly as he could. There must be something wrong and since it was coming from the border, Branch assumed he had run into some trouble. It made him worry that his brother was in danger and he would waste no time, he needed to get there. His pace was quick and he tried to keep himself calm not wanting to assume what may be going on. When he arrived he could see Birch with a distressed, unfamiliar women on the other side of the border.

It didn't look like danger, but it certainly wasn't what he had expected. His brows furrowed together as he slowed his pace and came up beside his brother.

"Hello I'm Branch Wreckage Rom-Baro or Alpha of this pack, what can I help you with," he could only assume that he was called here because of this women, but what she needed help with was uncertain.


"Talk." & 'Think.'

He couldn’t tell her.

Philomena felt her heart breaking a bit more in her chest… but she tried her best to hold it together. He said he’d call someone, someone who could hopefully answer her better, and the female gave the slightest of nods, praying to the Gods that whomever it was could indeed answer her question about Ganta’s grave.

….and it didn’t take long for another stranger to come. Philomena heard his approach and lifted her head. She was more distressed than she’d expected but… she never thought anyone else would claim these lands. They were untouchable in her eyes. The female shivered a bit more, listening to this male, brother to the first, speak.

Branch. It was an… odd name. But he spoke calmly, though with a bit of confusion perhaps at what she was doing here. “A-As I’ve told your brother… these lands used to be my home. Home of a pack called Dragoste.” Philly swallowed hard, trying to keep her voice from cracking.

This was so unlike her… but not being able to go home…

“My father has a grave here. It’s under one of the willows, by a huge den… it has rocks over it. I tried to make them in the shape of a star I just… I want to know it’s okay.” Honestly she’d rather see for herself but one didn’t just go waltzing into pack territory.

“I know he’s gone… but his resting place is important… please… please tell me it remains undisturbed?” Philomena’s gaze searched Branch’s own. If he lied… she wanted to know.

""

ooc: Permission from Den via DM to skip Birch and PP that he departs to continue his patrol.

His eyes were focused on the distressed women, his heart dropping with each minute. He didn't like seeing anyone upset, let alone a female. Ears forward, he intently listened to what she had to say. She explained that this was once the home of Dragoste which he supposed was another pack. It wasn't really surprising to hear this news, but in all fairness this place was long abandoned when he arrived. It wasn't uncommon for packs to come and go, but that wasn't the main reason she was here. She went on to explain that her father has a grave here, explaining the landmark she had created to mark the site. Branch knew exactly where it was, he had done his best to scope out any potential grave sites when he had first come. There was a few by the old willow tree, which was off limits for any disturbance.

He understood now why she was so distressed, she feared the very site his body was buried had been ruined. He knew he would be distressed at the thought of a grave being disturbed of his loved one. He nodded to her and looked to Birch giving him a kind smile.

"Thank you Birch I'll take it from here," he nodded to his brother and watched him head back out to finish his patrol.

His blue eyes looked back to the women and softened as he looked to her a reassuring smile spreading across his lips.

"It has not been disturbed, rest assured. I'll accompany you to it if you would like to visit. I don't want to stop anyone from visiting their loved one," he offered stepping aside to let her lead the way.

He knew where it was at, but he was being a gentleman and letting her take the lead, hoping that it may help ease her a bit.


"Talk." & 'Think.'

Philly breathed out in relief as Branch confirmed the grave remain undisturbed. It was the only thing she had left of her father… and her mother… who knew where the woman was now? It pained her to think that Roza might be gone too… or worse… what if the Abraxas had taken her too?

Philomena stepped over the borders, her motions still shaky, but her gaze showed her gratitude as she nodded to Branch.

“Thank you…”

The female took it one step at a time, a bit faster than a normal walk as she made her way towards the gravesite. Her gaze traveled over the familiar landscape, memories of her childhood stirring in her mind and heart as she did so. Her ears remained lowered, pain still evident in her body language. It wasn’t until the grave was in site that Philomena spoke again.

“Dragoste should have still been here.” Her words were quiet, and certainly not spiteful. Not towards Branch.

“My father was challenged for the pack… and when he stood up to the challengers, a group that invaded the lands… their patriarch took his life.” Philomena finally came to a stop before the grave, seeing it indeed undisturbed. She sat, a heavy sigh leaving her lips.

“It is partially my father’s fault for wanting to make it a death match… but they didn’t need to oblige to that. They crushed him so easily… He never stood a chance.” Philomena glanced towards Branch.

“They call themselves the Abraxas… and their crimes against the pack don’t stop there. I’m not telling you to fight them, Rom-Baro, but I’m warning you to be wary of them. For the safety of your pack.” Philomena let her gaze slide back her father’s grave before she closed her eyes, shaking her head.

If only she had been there… If only her uncle hadn’t taken her… would things be different? Would her family still be together? Be whole?

""