something somewhere out there keeps calling
SEEKING RAKUEN
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After having accepted Carmen into the delicate workings of Bright Moon's few members, Darcia couldn't fall back asleep. Go figure. The only thing he had wanted was to go, close his eyes, and find himself in a world where he could be free. But such was not to occur this time. For one thing, Iason was slobbering all over the goddamn place and frankly, Darcia didn't want to step back into the den. So instead he turned sharply away from the place where the white beast still slept and moved towards the territory line once more. What was he looking for? His duo-toned portals scanned the area around him, as if he were somehow going to find a sign of life somewhere that might just bring him to a kind of enlightenment. As if that was ever going to happen. The only reason he had chosen this place was because it still smelled like the dead flowers that could be found in it's most inner heart. Those flowers had also brought Elora here... strange... he hadn't seen the woman since the encounter where he had told her to steer clear of him from then on. Perhaps she had actually heeded to his wish and gone away. Darcia's stargazers shut tightly. No. She was definitely still here. He could smell her perfume on the breeze, and it was unlikely that after finding the funeral home of such flowers that she would be willing to leave so soon. The brujo exhaled slowly and raised his voice for Summer. Though the two had departed from the same arena not three hours before, Darcia supposed that it would be best to just get it the hell over with. When he had gone to pay his respects to the new leader of Moondown Shadows, he had come across a duet of femmes who carried the exact same blood and scent as Summer himself did. Siblings, perhaps? Who knew really?
When Summer did show up, his Alpha would not necessarily speak to him just yet (that headache was still pounding through his cranial, threatening to shatter every breakable piece within him). Instead, he would acknowledge his being there, and would just start moving. He hoped to god the male followed him, because honestly turning around, looking over his shoulder, making sure that he was still there... wasn't really his own cup of tea. After a while, however, travelling without speaking was to be considered "awkward" to the King. So he slowed his pace to be more in tune with that of Summer's, and rose to the occassion. I've been thinking lately that it might be a good idea to get into the heads of all of Bright Moon. Being able to know how one might think could save us all from the trouble of starting things off on the wrong foot. But, it would only seem right to share my own story before asking to hear that of anothers...This might take a little while, but seeing as we're going nowhere, it doesn't matter. It was actually pretty natural speech for Darcia. He never really had a problem talking to people /Iasonexcluded/ and frankly, he quite liked the idea of being able to share words with others and have them understand the sounds you were making just by putting however many letters together. It was a wonderful notion. So, as they walked (in whatever direction), he began. Iason and I were born and raised in a pack where only males presided. As younglings we were put in groups of two for training and, after a year of companionship, we were to be pitted against one another in a battle to the death. My partner was Iason. We were pretty close during the training program; days would bring wounds that would scar and physical aches and pains that I can still feel if I move wrong. Darcia turned one of his two-colored portals towards his packmate, not analyzing his features, but rather, looking. Wondering if somehow this creature had experienced the same kind of pain that he had been forced to go through.
Of course one cannot always compare pain like that. It's actually impossible... but perhaps the worst thing that ever happened to Darcia could be the same exact pain as the worst thing that had ever happened to one of the vargs in his own pack. It was just a notion. When the time was right, Iason and I were pitted against one another. At first it was confusing. To force pups to fight to the death against their best friend, their only friend, is cruel. Almost unthinkable. But the trust that it was for the better of the pack over-rode the idea of friendship. It was hell. Who knows who would have won if we continued. But once both of us were on the ground, facing each other with blood in our eyes, we both realized something. We didn't have to do this. Darcia paused for a moment, taking the time to re-establish the steady beat of his heart once more. There was no need to get excited... but the memory itself brought back a kind of wild energy that all vargs experience many times in their life. The most well known point in time is that of which a pup first experiences their putnar. A hunt. Bloodlust. The heart gets to beating all crazy like and all they can think of is that flesh underneath their ivories. The joy of a kill. I don't honestly know how we did it, but we both got to our feet and took off away from that Hell. You should have seen the looks on the royals faces. They were so surprised that we would run together. He laughed for a moment and then continued on. We've been travelling ever since. I suppose the reason why we challenged for a pack was to show that power does not have to be won in the sort of way that we were raised to believe. You do not have to spill blood in order to be strong. I never want another living soul to experience something like that. But wishing something doesn't really work, does it? I figured the best thing I can do is make sure that those under my own watch are not hurt.
Now Darcia stopped, aware now of the place that they had travelled to. I've spilled the blood of those who would aim to hurt my brother, and I would do the same to those who would have the audacity to direct ill intentions towards Misty, Iso, Whiskey, Elora, Carmen, and yourself, Summer. The same goes for a stranger passing me by. If they are in trouble, I would put myself in the way of danger for their sake. Rash, yes, but the male had carved that way of thinking into himself for so long now that it just felt like instinct to be truthful. He stopped and sighed aloud, looking at the sky. It was to be getting dark in a few hours, by the looks of it. When he turned his skull back towards the male accompanying him, he half-smiled and then opened his mug for more lyrics to spill out. Now, if it does not bother you to share.
darcia
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