He felt like he was floating, drifting through the waters on a hot summers day with the rays beating heavily down upon him. It was bright... He felt as though he should open his eyes but instead he just squeezed them shut harder. The pain was gone, if this was a dream he did not want to wake up from it. Eyes squeezed shut harder, attempting to push out the sunlight for a little bit longer, massive form curling and contorting up within himself as if trying to make himself as small as possible. But he had to wake up. War was raging on around him, though he couldn't hear it he knew it was happening. In reality he had not been at war in months, maybe even a year. Time seemed to flow differently here even though he had yet to open his eyes and realize why exactly all the pain and noise around him had stopped. Vixe just wanted to sleep, to enjoy this time of peace and painlessness. The last thing he remembered was seeing Azalea, his aunt and a massive scarred woman running at him. But mostly Azalea. His dear Azalea, the woman he had wished to make his own but in the end he knew it would never happen. She belonged to his king and Vixe would not go against him. So eyes remained closed, happy to simply dream about her and a different world where they might have been able to be together.

Speech!

Who will be there to take my place when I'm gone, you'll need love, to light the shadows on your face Stilts of ebony carried the petite woman across the vast expanse of her hell hole. Is seemed as though Kylar was just here, but she had no idea how much time had passed. There was no rising or setting of the sun, there terrain changed to suit her mood. She had no way to keep of track of time. It was just an endlessly cycle of nothing. Tiny bodice swayed, a familiar scent stopping her in her tracks. Muscles went rigid with tension, sapphire gems searching wildly for the source. Vixe. He was here! Hope flared in her chest, she would be able to see her son one last time. Finally, she would find him. Limbs propelled her into a run, closing the distance in a matter of seconds. She would not stop until she stood beside her son, brows furrowing as she watched him. Something was wrong. Very wrong. "Vixe?" It took everything she had not to let her voice trembling, to not let her fear show. He was different, different from Kylar. Kylar, he had sense of life that surrounded him, a sort of warmth. But Vixe, her son, did not. "Vixe, my boy, wake up." She would stoop forward, pressing her nose into his neck, nudging him gently. He was fighting it. His massive form curled tightly in on itself, his eyes clenched shut. The dark woman would rise, seating herself vigilantly beside her son. She would wait patiently until he finally woke. He could not fight it forever, he would soon have to wake, he would have to come to terms with that fact that he was now dead. Could you make it on your own? "Talk here."

Through the haze came a voice, drifting and slipping through the fog that clouded his mind like a thread that he would grab onto. For a moment he would fight against it, body contorting and twisting as if fighting against the need to wake up. Eyes screwed shut further, but slowly his conscious mind would heave itself up that thread and after what felt like an eternity eyes would finally flutter open. Sickly green gaze so like his fathers would blink and muscles would relax as he cast his gaze around for a moment. Where was he? Where was the battle? "A... Azalea?" He would ask, voice dry and parched so tongue would flit out across lips to moisten them. She was nowhere to be found and neither was the rest of his pack or the Valhallans. In fact this wasn't even Veronica Plains? Had he been knocked out and dragged somewhere else? He remembered seeing Vi and the blind lady running towards him before he had blacked out but where were they? It was as if suddenly eyes would find her, seated behind him and slowly he would blink. Was he dreaming? "Mother?" He asked groggily before finally he would shuffle himself to up, forepaws almost struggling to push his massive frame up into a seated position. "Your dead. Is this a dream?" He asked, eyes closing once more as he shook his head to try and clear it. If this was a dream why did it all feel so real?

Speech!

Who will be there to take my place when I'm gone, you'll need love, to light the shadows on your face He continued to fight, not wanting to wake. But she could see his mind slowly waking as his body relaxed and eyes fluttered open. He murmured a name that was foreign to her, a friend, or lover perhaps? She would not speak until he found her gaze, his verdant gems so similar to his father it hurt. He struggled to push himself up, voicing the question she had been dreading. "No Vixe, this isn't a dream. You're?.You're dead." She had never been one to beat around the bush, and there was no way for her to lessen the blow of this news. He needed to know. She would give him a moment to process what she had said, haunches remaining glued to the ground. She fought not to rush to him, to tell him that it would be ok, they had never had a good relationship. He had always hated her, despised her. And she never knew why. "What do you remember?" Her crown would tip to the side, concern evident in her sapphire gaze. What could have possibly brought him here? Kylar had said he had joined a pack. What pack wouldn't defend their own? Why had they let him die? He was so young. Questions brutally assaulted her mind, and all she could do was watch, to look at her son as he struggled with the realization of being dead. Could you make it on your own? "Talk here."

Dead.

He continued to blink, this time transferring gaze away from her and off into the distance. He was dead, so that explained the fact that suddenly there was no pain or stiffness in his muscles from the battle. Jaw would open and close as a few moments before his last memory cam flooding back, the memory of Azalea's dad going for his throat and teeth finding purchase on tender flesh. The memory of chocking and gagging on his own blood as he fought for air but could only fill his lungs with his own blood as it spilled freely down his chest and onto the earth. He wore no expression as all this settled in on him, simply sitting and staring off into the distance for a long moment. It wasn't until his mother spoke again did he turn his attention back to her, eyes unable to really focus on anything specific. "Dead? I'm dead?" He said softly, not really comprehending what she was asking him for a time. But as it all began to settle in he would sigh and close his eyes to think.

"I remember a war. Glaciem was taking over Valhalla and I fought with them. There was a woman? Isardis has killed her mate and she wanted to kill him so I intercepted her. There were others and then he showed up. Azalea's father. I said some things and I guess he killed me. I remember Aunt Vi and another lady running for me and then thats it?" His voice was as dead as he felt, once again skull moving to stare off into the distance. Where were they? Was this heaven or hell? It looked like Alacrita but it wasn't. He couldn't focus on being mad at his mother right now and though resentment still festered within him he struggled to comprehend any of the emotions passing through him then and there.

Speech!

Who will be there to take my place when I'm gone, you'll need love, to light the shadows on your face He could see the confusion written all over his face, unable to comprehend that he was truly dead, ripped away from the world of the living. It broke her heart, he shouldn't be here, he was so young, he had his entire life ahead of him and it had all been taken away, for what? He began to explain what happened, a frown creasing her features. War. He had been to war, he was so young. The names he spoke of were unfamiliar, holding no meaning to her, but obvious meaning to him. Only one name stuck out to her. Vi. She remembered the russet woman, they had never gotten along, but it seemed that the woman had been looking for Vixe. But her help had come to late. He wouldn't meet her gaze, his voice dead of emotion. It was a hard realization to come to. "You're in Somnium now. Its what you make it, heaven or hell. You might meet other dead wolves here, you might not. You can only interact with the living through dreams so I've learned." She spoke quietly, trying to explain this place to him. She hoped he would see the better side of it, but it would doubtful. He had always been so angry. And now being cut off from the living world could only make that worse. Could you make it on your own? "Talk here."

He was confused, but he was also numb, unable to truly understand the meaning of all this. He was dead. He had died. Somehow he had already known that but his mind had been trying to protect him, he had wanted to stay asleep forever and never truly understand what had happened. But now he had to face it. His mothers words washed over him rather then hit him, nothing really seeming to drag him out of the daze he was in and he would continue to stare off into the distance. He would blink a few times, swaying as if the weight of the world was suddenly setting down on him before steadying himself once more and continuing to stare. It seemed like a long time before finally he would turn his massive skull to his mother, blinking a few more times before his jaw would slacken and study her again. A few expressions would slip over his features ranging from rage and confusion to hope and happiness. "We can contact the living? How?" His intensity was sudden and abrupt, lifting his frame to his huge paws so he was standing before her. If he could contact the living did that mean he could see Azalea again? Could he tell her everything he had always wanted to tell her?

Speech!

Who will be there to take my place when I'm gone, you'll need love, to light the shadows on your face She could tell that he wasn't really accepting his death. His mind was trying to protect itself from the harsh realization. He remained silent for the longest time, looking off into the distance, emotions passing over his face. When he turned to look at her, she could see the hope that was there, and she wasn't so sure it was a good thing. She had months without talking to anyone before she finally saw Kylar in a dream, she still didn't know how it all worked. "Well, I haven't figured it out entirely, but when some is sleeping, and they start to dream, you can slip into their dreams and talk to them." She knew she shouldn't have said anything just yet, he should have had time to settle in, to accept that he had died before jumping to false hopes. It would crush her to see him constantly searching and coming up empty. That sort of searching only made you go crazy, made you feel hopeless. Her soon stood before her, towering over her as most did and she would offer him a sad smile. There was nothing better than seeing her son, but the pain knowing he was dead...She made herself a promise that she would stalk Kylars dreams until she finally broke through to him again. Could you make it on your own? "Talk here."

She was hesitant to answer but his eyes would pressure her to give him an answer and soon words would drop from her lips. Each one hitting the ground like stones that would slowly crush any hope he had of seeing Azalea again. She didn't know. Shoulders visibly sinking under the weight of this realization... The intensity was gone, whatever light had gleamed in his eye vanished and slowly massive skull would turn to look into the distance once more. So this was it... This would be his life now? Suddenly he wanted to go back to sleep, to slip into the nothingness his mother had woken him from. "Adravendi... The war... It was fought all over a dispute over one little girl... She's the reason I'm dead. Adravendi." It was all he could say, all he could comprend anymore. Between Azalea and Liberty it was all their fault that the war had started. Though he didn't blame Azalea... He could never blame her. Everyone else... Her whole damn family could rot... Her father was the one who had killed him and granted he was beginning to remember some of this hateful things he had spat out in the heat of battle. Slowly lips would curl back, brows furrowing in disgust. He had some dreams to haunt. Sickly green gaze would flitter back to his mother again, only for a moment as if sizing her up. Though none of this was her fault the shock and see if the whole situation was beginning to flake off his exterior to expose that angry confused child he had always been. "I swear to god... I'll haunt their fucking family for the rest of time... They should all suffer. They need to suffer for what they did..." Words slipped like venom through clenched teeth. It wasn't a threat. It was a promise.


Speech!

Who will be there to take my place when I'm gone, you'll need love, to light the shadows on your face It was painful to watch the light fade from his eyes, to see all his hope disappear like smoke. His would mention a name, one that was vaguely familiar. Adravendi. War. It was all over a stupid girl. Lips would lift, revealing the tips of fangs. Her boy was dead because of some foolish girl? Her sons gaze would meet hers, his anger written on his face. His next words came as no surprise. He had always had a temper. "They will pay my boy. They will." The petite woman would rise, closing the distance between herself and her son. She would press her nose into his neck before standing up on her tip toes to place a light kiss on his cheek. She knew this would be hard on him and that he would want some time alone to process things. She would step back, sapphire eyes tipped up towards him, a small smile playing on her lips. There was no reason for her to go, no excuse to pull her away, nor did she have any desire to part ways. But she would understand if he wanted to be alone for awhile. Could you make it on your own? "Talk here."