something somewhere out there keeps calling
SEEKING RAKUEN
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Ow. Though Darcia had not really felt the full effect of the injuries bestowed upon him by the woman who had carelessly challenged for the pack he had sworn to protect, he could feel them more now and firmly believd that perhaps they hurt even more now than they were supposed to in the first place. She ahd not been very keen with the way that she attacked him but she ahd done it in places that would certainly be hard to cleanse and work with. The inside of his back left leg was torn up and the bottom of his sternum, where he most definitely could not reach was in bad shape from a strange attack that had gone for his genitals, but had instead (due to quick thinking) reached only his lower chest. He hoped she could feel the pain and horror of what his own attacks might mean for her. He had screwed up her mug as his second attacka nd she had taken it as a full hit-- the most foolish move he had ever seen in his whole entire life. Even the younglings when he had been training with Iason were not as stupid as the femme who had challenged for his pack had turned out to be. And she was older than him by a few years even. Nevermind now, it did nto matter anymore. It was done, and he would never see her face again-- if he did, there would be no mercy reflected in his duo-toned portals when they caught her own pools. He would not hesitate to inflict even more damaging blows upon her.
Now returning to Bright Moon, the creature raised by darkness limped across his territory, listening to the quiet and somewhat soothing (and yet unnerving) sound of his own blood as it fell to the ground underneath him. The scarlet liquid stained the terra firma that had earlier this week been cloaked in ice crystals. Surely his blood would bring about nutrients to the soil that would help even the land itself prosper. Such was the thought process of the being. He had no interest in how many other vargs would come to this land that had once been so prosperous and full of other lera such as himself-- since Tamlin's death, the place was vague and almost unnoticeable. When he had stopped by Moondown Shadows to pay a visit to the new King, Striker, some of the eyes that followed him there were eyes of fear. Darcia was not a cruel being unless he needed to be. The only reason he could ever be cruel was to protect those he cared about. And to cut down on Iason, but that was a different matter. He told himself that he should not be bothered by the way they had looked at him-- that he was his own master and they were merely ignorant fools-- however, the feeling of them looking upon him as someone who was 'cruel' was something he would rather not have imprinted into his head at the moment.
When he reached the same area that he had gone to when he had first taken on the title of ownership for this pack, he took great care in settling himself down-- even the heat from his wounds could be seen in the frostbitten atmosphere, still moving from winter time into the wonder of spring. Beneath the great brute, a pool of blood was already forming, escaping from his injuries as one flees from a dragon in a tale. He lifted his muzzle to the heavens, observing as the sun hid behind a few choice clouds, blocking the rays from hitting the earth and inviting a gale to come crashing into the arena. As it revolved around him, a song lifted from his vocals, summoning whatever vargs were still within this territory, and the ones that might be on the edge of it. After the song had been dispatched, Darcia lowered his mismatched gaze and closed his dreamgazers, biting the inside of his cheek in order to ignore the pain. He would first address his family, and then he would tend to himself; he doubted they were worried about him... but he just wanted to show that he had fulfilled his promise that he keep careful watch over this pack. Darcia was not one to go back on his word, and now he had the right to say that he was going to be leader of this pack for as long as fate had him cut out for it. He would protect the members within it till his dying breath and would rather secure his happiness and forfeit his own than allow them to be miserable.
darcia
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