the direwolves gather 'round - any

[OLEANDAR]

 
This is the first time the moth-baby has been south since she was encased in womb, in a protective cage of bone which she loved... Sometimes she misses her bone cage, longs to  be within the loving confines of her mother’s body again. She often mourns the loss of her comfortable cocoon. No longer can she feel her mother’s pumping heart or hear the waves of her breath crashing into her lungs. And the loudness. Ugh, the noise. Everything is so loud out in the world, and bright, and fast. She’s been glued to her mother’s freckled hip, eyeing the world suspiciously from there. More and more she’s been straying, but no more than one hundred yards or so, and only for a few minutes.

For the last few days she’s been walking and walking, it seems. Along the coast they go, stopping here and there but mostly walking. Her fuzzy legs are sore and her belly is grumbling. We haven’t stopped in a while.. She ponders this but knows better than to prod her mother, she does not feel like getting snapped at, which she will most certainly do. Though she fawns gently over the baby most times, always in fact, she does not tolerate being beckoned for food and will bark or nip. Oleandar does not know this, but it will train her to not depend too harshly on a single source of food. This will drive the child to search and learn what is good, thus weaning herself out of convenience. Her mother did it to her and it is a valuable piece to one’s puzzle if you want to be a survivor. 

Rain. The moth-baby’s sensitive nose can smell it. Thunder cracks far off, beyond the breathing waves slapping the sand, beyond the cragged stone islands that litter the coastline. She’s sure her mother can smell it too; the autumnal sea storms are moving in. City moves off of the beach and leads her daughter inland, though Olea is unaware of navigational exacts, they are somewhere near Taiga, following the river to the forest. When the storm’s brim reaches them they are deep in the forest and her mother is seeking out a nice thicket to rest in – milk soon; the child can smell it and she knows that now that dusk has wrapped the land, they will rest for a while until the moon rises. 

Their plans are abruptly interrupted.  

Growling starts from the dark corners of the forest that litters the edges of the thin trail they are travelling. City has already stopped and assumed an aggressive posture, her child huddling beneath her. She stomps three, four times, but the prowling things do not back down – they multiply. Their glowing eyes blink and float in the pockets of black. Olea’s thin wings begin to flutter with alarm; her mother’s pounding heart throbbing in her ears. Feet, claws, whatever it may – they’re getting closer, the growls getting deeper. 

One shadowy figure lunges for the fragile baby but her mother is quicker, grabbing it by its prickly scruff and slamming it down onto the hard roots and packed ground. Her fore feet toss viciously into the ribs of whatever it is, Olea has no idea, and it yelps and scrambles back into the shadows. The mother knows and she curses herself for bringing the daughter here while she’s still so young. Another wolf, bigger, ganglier than the last propels from behind and then another from the side. City is again faster than she should be, a mother’s adrenaline, kicking one and stomping the other with the front. She’s been opened by tooth and claw along her left hip and beneath the stream of her bloody tears her cheek is slashed. Blood glistens in the moonlight across her pale freckled body as she heaves great breaths in and out, her tail whipping and her sulphur eyes trained to the forest’s edge. 

They want the child and the mother knows it. 

Still so young, but can she fly? The mother has no choice now, they will only pick her apart first and clean their teeth with her baby’s bones after. “You’ll have to fly Oleandar, NOW!” No time for debate, or lessons, City  crashes forward into the darkness and the wolves take the bait. Four, then five, then seven, they pile onto her, “RUN! GO NOW! FLY!” City’s voice struggles through gritted teeth and she almost falls her knees for a second. 

Suddenly they are severed and Olea is on the black wind, floating silently on colorful paper wings. She’s not sure how she did it, really, but she’s up there, just above the ground, safe from the jaws that are probably ripping into her mother. A gentle gust throws her off balance and she fumbles, falls and skids onto land. She’s about two miles in a mystery direction from her mother and lying where she has descended clumsily from flight and on the verge of tears.

Shit.

Oleandar

the moth-child of elysium & city

TLDR; 

City is travelling with Olea and they are set upon by direwolves... Olea manages to escape and now she's alone.
I will be posting City in a separate thread shortly. Hopefully someone helps her XD
Feel free to find Olea though, anyone at all. She's about seven months, i think? Born last Spring. 

Description of her, just to help: She's got those wings pictured above. Big pale-green tinted moth eyes, fuzzy legs, and she's quite petite. Her coat is golden champagne c:

<33

[Ellyse]

i'm not going to change, so stay out of my way.

i don't need you to understand that i'm already saved.

  The gentle caress of autumn weaves its way through her ruffled feathers as a quiet breeze touches delicately along her pale golden pelt, a long and drawn out sigh emerging from her parted, whiskered lips. It had been a long time - too long, perhaps - since she had descended into the shadows of a once familiar pathway of heavy rock and sloping foliage. The shadows beckon her forth and she falls into temptation, savoring the way the temperature drops as the sun struggles to peek through the heavy pines that shelter her.

  Tightly, she draws her wings against her lithe and flexible body, grimacing only slightly as the bristling feathers scratch against the old, brittle bark that tugs and pulls relentlessly at her. She prefers the dim, dark rhythm of the night, in which she is unrestrained and able to move swiftly – but the darkness is a gentle reprieve from the dense humidity and heat she is so used to.

  The silence is almost deafening, and the sunlight is beginning to fade away – a shadow is descending overhead; an incoming storm with a frigid gust of wind that weaves its way through the winding branches of the forest, rustling the ivory feathers of her folded wings. A shiver traverses the course of her spine, but she is wholly unphased – weather would come, and it would go – it would pass, and soon, she would be uncomfortably warm and slick with perspiration near the rumbling volcano she had come to call her own.

  Alas, the tranquility is shattered with a sudden grotesque thud echoing through the dense foliage from somewhere in the distance, and the ridges of her brow line knit together in a scowl. Quietly, with her winged appendages tucked tightly against the ridges of her body, she paces through the woodland, weaving between small, nearly impossible gaps between old and winding pines – before coming across a small clearing, where a delicate and colorful thing lay amidst the dull, dying vegetation.

  Her dark eyes search the sky and the line of the forest for any movement, and finding none, she moves nearer to the small child. She is vivid, bright – with soft, paper-thin wings of marigold and amber, with skin the very same shade of gold as her own. When she sees her eyes – wide, compound, unblinking, her heart nearly seizes within her chest. She would know of her father’s genes anywhere – she carried them herself, after all, and moreso, had lovingly plucked and groomed at his soft, feathery antennae more times than she could count.

  ”Shh, shh – don’t cry,” she murmurs softly, as the soft plush of her nose presses against the unusual moth-child’s cheek. ”you’re not alone. Where is your mother?”

  And your father? she doesn’t ask, her heart overwhelmed with so many questions – was she his child? If so, that meant he was alive – and somewhere out there.

Ellyse

So, Elly is her half-sister and recognized her immediately as being family.

[OLEANDAR]

When the golden mare’s body becomes more than a blur Olea can feel something kindred stir. Her voice is soothing, almost as comforting as hearing her mother’s. She is, for a moment, relieved and a smile starts at the tips of her pink lips. It is gone in a flash though, for she remembers that her mother is still out there – or, not…

“I do not know – we got separated, the wolves, they’re attacking her!” She jesters her pale nose to the direction in which she came flying in from. Could be a mile? She has no clue, but she cannot hear her mother’s voice or the growling, or gnashing teeth of the wolves. Her face begins to wrinkle with grief once more, ready to sob, her antennae-ears pressed into her fuzzy crest of adolescent mane. She begins to trot in the direction she hopes her mother might be, turning back with teary eyes to the golden woman...confused, but too worried to question why she feels safer with her, only that she doesn’t want to be alone again.

Oleandar

the moth-child of elysium & city

@[Ellyse]

[OLEANDAR]

@[Ellyse]

Can we assume Ellyse assisted her in some way and a bloodied City came to collect baby in a hurry? It will make it easier if i can just make a new thread for them to run into each other, Olea will be grown and remember Ellyse's help , she can let her in on who her daddy is and such and it will be plotting bliss c:

[Ellyse]

@[OLEANDAR] - fine by me <3