To Play The Game
08-25-2013, 01:56 AM
Walk | "Talk" | Think The Delta had been one of the last places Rune had spent a moment alone with his mother, one of the last memories he had of her as he remembered her best: serious and yet warm and still his mom underneath it all. As the cool marine breezes that rolled in off the ocean rustled against the light grey fur of his body, he thought of her, of how he had attempted - in vain - to sneak up on the dark woman in this very location, and then spent the afternoon wandering across the eastern section of Alacritia in each others company. They were fond memories, so much better than the scene he had found regarding his last thoughts of her. Blood, fur, and a freshly dug grave were all that he had been left with to determine the fate of the blue-eyed she-wolf, and though he hoped to never know the details of that grim day he knew he would have no more with her. Quietly as he sat within the sands, staring out at the waters in a very similar manner to how his mother had that day, he wondered what she would have made of the mess currently plaguing their home. Or what had been their home. Brow lowered over his pale eyes as he considered that the familiar, stony volcanic mountain might once again not be his anymore. Fate seemed to be perfectly against his home and those who dwelt there, ready to snatch everything out from under his feet and send him tumbling and sprawling upon the cold earth even in the middle of summer. Why? he wondered with distress. Whatever had Tortuga done to earn this sort of ill-timed injustice? He felt sorry for Morphine, who had been trying to do her best to lead them to their former glory, for her children who would never know what that glory had once been like, for everyone else who had thought to take part in its great uprising. More importantly, he took the loss as a personal insult. That was his home, his childhood stomping ground, the place where all his memories and his mother rested, nestled in the mountainside. What right did that have to be taken from him? What had he ever done to justify that loss? He had looked up to Morphine to take care of them, to see their pack into a new and glorious reign, but after this he doubted she would consider herself the same, strong Alpha that she once had. Of all of them, she had possibly taken it the hardest, at least visibly so. His aunt had taken a more docile approach, and for all the dedication he had thought her to have harbored toward Tortuga he soon realized it was placed elsewhere. No other thought about his home the same way he did. No one else considered it more special than any leader who could ever lead it, more special than even the collective pack. They only completed what was nearly perfect on its own. And so in the back of his mind he harbored secret thoughts, thoughts he was fearful of voicing but that were given considerable attention at the forefront of his mind. What if he attempted to take it back? What if he did this for the home that he cared for, for those few wolves who called themselves Tortugans and those who might wish to in the future so that the pack itself would not lose its essence entirely under a new leader? Even the thought of someone else coming along and stealing the territory out from under his paws caused his lip to curl, the canine tooth along the right corner of his lip suddenly visible. No. He could never accept that. And if none of the other adults that he knew of were intending to do something to remedy the predicament the Tortugan exiles were faced with, he would give consideration to taking on the responsibility himself. |
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