Bright Moon - a land sullied by mystery and the ravaging scars of a terrible fire. Abandoned as a pack land for years, the terra has been used as a gathering place for the brazen and bloodthirsty drawn there by the lingering pall of death. Yet from the ashes there comes an unordained phoenix, the rainbow hues of hope glinting in her mismatched globes. Through the obsidian drapes obscuring the scenery, she alone was able to catch the perfumed aroma of new life on the breeze and hear the sluggish streams flowing ever swifter into the morning.
Thus, with a purpose, she set out to map the incognita, discovering daily the extent of the reawakening and unearthing within herself a desire to return the landscape to its former glory. Now she stands tall as privileged Alpha of the lands, lording over the rock-strewn prairie and bountiful forests with a firm but gentle paw.
Having finally realized her deepest longing to be a queen, Satowra is focused solely on the revival and maintenance of the Bright Moon Pack. Her question to each prospective warrior that comes to the border is simple:
"Do you have what it takes?"
IP: 41.133.59.127
Posted on November 27, 2011 at 05:47:44 PM by Satowra
There were no words, would never be any words, with which to describe the intense cascade of emotions In some things, one may find a certainty as transparent yet tangible as the rays of the moon spilling from the heavens on a clear winter’s eve. Oftentimes, that certainty is an assurance of good things to come, of blessings and warmth and the crush of welcoming bodies seemingly fused forever in the act of a heartfelt embrace. However, as everything in this life has an opposite, so the certainty of good things can pivot on its very hinges leaving nothing more to chance or fate. Just as once she had anticipated good and wonderful things, sorrow and blame became evidently apparent from the first huff that told the story of another. Turning slowly and with the unwillingness of cone condemned, Satowra moved to face the golden assassin she knew would be waiting there. His beautiful framework was partially screened from her by the underbrush, but she drunk in his presence with all the gusto of a parched glutton in the meady midst of a tavern. Caressing his lush pelt, she turned her desperate gaze upon his own, and froze. No warmth was apparent in the depths of his crystalline eyes, only anger, mistrust and betrayal. Her paws turned to mud and then stone, first threatening to cast her earthwards and then holding her in the core of glacial chill. Her lips parted ever so slightly, though only silence fell from her jaws. Raylen chose that moment to speak, beginning his sentence with a scornful inclination of his striking face. She remained silent and unmoving, unsure how to react. She could not decipher whether the gruffness of his voice hinted at emotions of fury, relief or simple jubilation at her return. Her ears flicked back and forth, frantic as satellite dishes as her mind churned up some response, anything she could say to sum up the broiling sea of sentiments that dragged her soul asunder. The sound of twigs being crushed underpaw presented a welcome distraction, and she allowed her muzzle to point in the direction of the source of the sound, only to feel her mouth go dry as sand. From the undergrowth strode another wolf for whom Satowra held a special affection. The sight should have sent jitters of pleasure through her form, but it only drew another blistering claw mark down her cardiac walls. Two eyes, usually so beautiful and expressive, remained impassive and flinty under her probing, giving nothing away. Unable to fight it, another wave of desperation engulfed Satowra and her dusty pelt twitched with the force of it. However, neither drake responded to her silent appeal. Instead, Rio turned to Raylen with a friendly smile, giving him a brotherly nip and positioning himself closely at his side. The ebony wolf watched hopelessly as he completed the wall of hostility, her on the one side and those she held dearest on the other. Sentences drying with the saliva on her lips, she listened in horror at the emotionless voice in which Rio addressed her, though this was followed by an obviously involuntary shiver. Satowra reacted by taking two steps backward, her face contorted with mute shock. It was not their seeming coldness that tore at her so, for she was well aware that they cared. Nay, it was because she had only then begun to realize exactly how much pain she had inflicted on those she cared for most. How could she possibly explain to them the reasons for her private exodus from Bright Moon? How would they begin to understand? She was wise enough to know how she must appear, weary and broken and begging forgiveness because she was unable to make anything of herself as a loner, yet without the gall to even tell her friends she was leaving in the first place. That was how she must appear. However, that raven-hued and ravaged ess was not Satowra. Reaching deeply to harness her last reserves of inner strength, she scrounged for at least a few tattered remnants of the emotions she had experienced when she had been an alpha; uncharacteristic feelings of pride and capableness, of sagaciousness beyond her young years and a new persona that drew others to her. Only after she had completed this last, defiant act, she raised her muzzle to the boys, and spoke. Her tone was soft but firm, her pate as high as she dared hold it. Her flag waved at half-mast, neither brazen nor submissive. She had made some mistakes, yes, but she had undergone punishment worthy of these errors, and thus would declare them punished, “Rio, Raylen, my friends. I have made some grave mistakes in my past, but none so terrible as the act of desertation I so recently carried out. I was certain I had left you in very capable paws, and I will be eternally grateful to Tamlin, and both of you, for allowing Bright Moon to continue to flourish. Alas, there is no way I can convey to you the reasons for my untimely departure, or the resulting madness I spiraled into. All I ask is that, before you punish me with your icy glares and uniform distance, that you pause to consider whether I have already been punished enough for my sins,” here, her last spark of boldness left her, and she hung her head low. She wondered if she could ever regain their trust, as Moth had regained the trust of her packmates when she had returned from her mysterious adventures abroad. As it had seemed destined to do since her forbidden birth, love had destroyed her again. I see through the eye of the storm;
{ Satowra | Alpha of Bright Moon | ebony with a white face and a white, lightning-jagged mark on her flank | female | four years of age | lover of none}  |
Replies:
- let me hate you, let me break you - By raylen November 27, 2011 at 10:11:08 PM
i used to believe - By tamlin. November 28, 2011 at 01:41:33 AM
- By . November 18, 2011 at 10:35:52 PM
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