Monuments to Man [Crise + Open]

[jiminiminy]

Ground that was not ground, trees that were not trees. Thus was the result of Mankind's intrusion. Once they had passed through the remainder of the Chamoru Plains, Siscarm almost found himself missing the lush area. The wastes were covered with soot and ash, giving the dirt the appearance of stone, and the chemicals had poisoned the soil, leaving a sickly stench in the air that had caused Siscarm to double over in a fit twice already.

The worst part of the traveling was that he could still remember the beauty the land once held, almost a decade ago. The once plentiful and strong trees that stood as tightly packed as a mountain, guarding the lands within had been swept away. The beautiful flowers and lakes were gone, replaced by the stone ground and a bubbling spring that emitted a ghastly stench, which they had passed a few minutes ago.

The fruit of the world had become rotten with the blight of man.

Still, Siscarm was almost suprised at how well his companion was holding up. She'd trotted along beside him for the most part, every so often stopping to inquire him about something that he'd be glad to tell. He'd almost grown fond of her presence, as if she were his pupil or young child. It saddened him that such an innocent mind had been plagued by amnesia. Not much reciently had been too uplifting for him.

He'd been thinking about a few things, mostly about the past. Wondering what had happened, what was happening now, and what would have happened if something had been different. He thought about his birth, his siblings, his parents, his travels, his mate (Which nearly made him cry), his children, his choices, then the future. All of the time, he was deep in silence, only ever breaking his thought to answer one of the young femme's questions. But eventually it got tiring, and all of his mind became set on simply putting one foot in front of the other.

Then he looked up, and saw the monuments of man. Perhaps four or five hundred meters above him was the first, a small shack, but another kilometer away the remains of once towering structures, taller than mountains, sat, throwing away the time they had left. They were magestic, powerful, and symbolized the death that the steel husks had brought.

Something in his mind clicked. If the word had triggered a flashback that lasted several minutes, the appearence would be catastrophic. It was. His mind simply stopped, beginning to reboot in flashback mode, and he only managed to say one thing.

"We are here."

Then he collapsed into the murky dust, as his mind began to paint a new reality for him to live in. His eyes went dark, and he simply lay, letting his mind leave him...

[crise]

Crise, being who she was, could not remain quiet for long. The change in scenery both awed and intimidated her. The ground was no longer green and lush; it was a sickly grey . Vegetation was virtually nonexistent in the wastland that was the Kalus Post. The scents of the place were anything but pleasant, and an aura of death seemed to hang about the lands. It was only natural the femme ask a million questions. She was just thankful her companion was willing to answer them all.

What is this place? What happened here? Does anything live here? Each question was met with patience and an answer. Interject between each question was also the occassional exclaimation of awe, shock, confusion, and excitement. The lands they were slowly traveling deeper and deeper into were quite extraordinary. Crise probably would not have been in so much awe had she remembered more, but as it was her memories of the human ruined lands were rather vage.

"We are here."

Crise's eyes went wide with awe as they landed upon the towering structures of human destruction. Nervously, her ears flattened against her skull, intimidation radiating from her. The steel and concrete crumbling structures were unfamilar and therefore somewhat scary. The longer she stared at them, however, the more her confidence levels grew. This place was supposedly the key to unlocking her memories, the key to remembering her own name. With the right stimulus, the femme was positive she would once again have her identity.

"Kiminasom, what is this place?" she questioned, gaze lingering on every piece of human touched land that lay in front of her. Several minutes passed without receiving an answer, and finally the Mexican fae turned to look at her companion. If possible, her eyes widened even more and she let out a small gasp. The old brute had collapsed on the ground, much in the way she had been earlier. The only difference? A collapsed Crise meant a dark mind, completely empty of all thoughts, emotions and enemies. Judging by the old one's words from earlier, a collapsed Kiminasom meant a crowded mind full of miserable thoughts, emotions, and memories.

Panic and fear gripped at her mind, and nervously Crise pawed at the body of her fallen friend. "Kiminasom?" Her head lowered to gently nuzzle his own, hoping to receive some sort of responce from him. "Kiminasom, wake up! Please! Don't give it to the darkness! Bad things always happen when you let the darkness take over your mind!" Her nerves were evident in her voice, worry making up most of her tone.

Had Crise been a normal wolf, a wolf who did not spend days wandering in confusion after long periods of being collapsed in some odd area, maybe she would have been less concerned. She definately would have been less understanding of the situation at hand. The young fae knew exactly what it was like for the elder. She knew the feeling of eyes rolling into the back of the skull, vision clouded by darkness, muscles paralyzed, and a mind corrupted by a horrible inky blackness. She did not know what it was like to collapse in memory, but her senses told her it was not very different from collapsing in forget. The longer Kiminasom was out, the worse condition he would be in when he awoke. Crise may not have known that she was named Crise, but she did know that if her companion did not wake up soon then she would not be the only one wandering around in a daze. "Kiminasom! Snap out of it! Please! Kiminasom!"

[jiminiminy]

Had the young Mexican femme spoken earlier, before his memories took hold, Siscarm may well have avoided his trance, but when she had spoken out, the old brute was already deep into the past. He made no response, regardless of how loud the femme cried out. It pained him to leave her alone, and his mind struggled for as long as possible for a foothold against the increasingly deadly wave of memories, but after no more than a minute, he was overwhelmed.

Thousands of past events flashed for half-second previews, his mind and senses pushed to their maximum capacity as everything happened over and over again, but suddenly the images came to a rest, and he was left in a different place, one he recognized from his previous submersion into the past...

"Open it." The command was not really a command, more like an immature coaxing to do as told, and the tone and squeaky voice hinted to a pup, maybe small wolf. Scamris looked to his left, the speaker. He looked to be a bit younger than the wolf on his right, as well a slightly smaller and with lighter fur. This gave him a bit of an unsettling demeanor, as knowledge hinted to his rather old age of five, as well as a good thirty inches to the shoulder.

His name was Caphron, something Scamris now remembered, which left the wolf to his right to be Ry'Jin by process of elimination.

"Come on, open it. I did last time, and Ry'Jin did it before. Remember? That's how he lost his eye." Upon examination of the wolf to his right, who was about four inches larger and a year older than Caphron, Scamris saw that he was indeed missing an eye.

"Yes, I'm well aware of that." Scamris really wasn't aware of that, but he didn't let that show on his face. He paused before he spoke again, pondering the sound of his own voice. It was sharper, harsher than he could remember it was when he'd traveled the wastes. Wastes? Perhaps he went through some to get here. Either way, he distinctly remembered his travels. Perhaps he was getting a cold? Even so, it was rather irrelevant, and he continued speaking. "And because of me being aware of that, I don't want to go first, because I rather enjoy having a symmetrical body, with things that come in pairs staying in pairs."

Caphron snorted, almost impossible for Scamris to distinguish whether it was disgust or a sort of laughter. Either way, none of the three moved.

Scamris turned to Ry'Jin a rather sly look plastered on his face. "Hey, Ry'Jin, why don't you do it?"

The older wolf stared at Scamris, his facial expression one of impending doom. Without saying anything, Scamris was extremely positive in his denial to do so, and he turned to face the steel door himself.

It was kind of largish, almost seven feel tall, and had an uninviting look to it. Scamris approached it, as a young child would approach a shop till, and lightly pushed on it with his paw. The door gave way, its massive frame falling back and onto the ground, sending a deafening noise that made all of them jump and cringe at the same time.

"Classy." Stated Caphron gleefully, and trotted inside. Ry'Jin looked reluctant to enter the concrete box that they had been designated to, but he was loyal to his cause, and dragged himself along behind the annoying trooper. As the ringing in his ears finally subsided, Scamris crossed the threshold as well, idly looking behind him for any hint of an enemy investigation before he pawed into the surreal darkness.

There was nothing. The black of night, doubled with the black of no windows had created a colour that seemed not to hide the light, but consume it, leaving nothing behind but its ever growing self.

"Allll right!" Came Caphron's voice through the darkness. Even his abnormal immaturity and gleefulness wasn't dulled by the impending danger that the darkness held secure. "So, uh, I'll go to the north end, Ry'Jin can have the honors of guarding us from the inevitable search party, and Scamris, you can go to the east end of the building and search for the prisoners. I'm sure they'll help us out. Dismissed!"

Had Scamris been able to see, he wouldn't have doubted that Caphron had skipped off as though he'd just made his first kill. Sighing, he abandoned Ry'Jin to his job and relied on his internal compass to take him where he needed to go, and began his venture through the unlit halls and corridors of whatever this building was called.

ooc: One, maybe two more posts and he'll be awake.

[crise]

"KIMINASOM!" The femme let out one last cry before sitting aside the body of her fallen companion. What in heaven's name was she supposed to do? Now, not only did she not know her name, but the one person willing to help her find it was currently incapacitated. Things just couldn't get any worse. Well, technically she could work herself into such a fit of histerics that she would end up collapsing in darkness besides the old brute. The fae had managed to keep herself calm enough that that probably would not be happening though.

'Think, think think... Come on. There's gotta be something you can do!' A frown tugged on her maw as her brows knit, mind trying to dig up every possible means of waking the old brute up. Obviously yelling and nudging him wasn't effective. "Hnn..." How was it that she had woken up from her last black out? Maybe the answer was that? Or not... She was too impatient and worried to quietly wait and do nothing. 'What about dumping cold water on him?' Letting her gaze skim over the horrizon, it was rather obvious she wouldn't be finding any useable water in the wasteland of a human territory. Another poor solution...

A frustrated sigh escaped her maw as she settle her gray gaze on the old brute. She really hated the fact that she was so empty headed right now. Maybe if she had more of her own memory she could think of a better plan. 'Come on Crise, think! ...Crise?' "Crise?" The name rolled off her tounge in confusion. Was... was her name Crise? "Crise! My name is Crise!"

Leaping to her feet in her excitement, she began to paw at the old brute's limp form. "Crise! It's Crise! Come on Kiminasom, wake up! I remembered my name! I'm Crise!" When she got no response, her spirits sunk again. She had forgotten that all attempts at rousing him were completely useless. Letting out a small whimper, the newly dubbed Crise lay down beside the old brute. She rested her head upon his side and let her eyes, ears, and nose keep lookout for any signs of danger. "Oh Kiminasom..."

[jiminiminy]

God, Scamris hated the black. There was nothing but it in this place, and it had caused him to walk into nearly every object that he could assume existed in the blank area. Even so, he could only assume that his journey was coming to a close. The scents of many different wolves was prominent in his mind, and every so often he would hear a voice or the scrabbling of claws on lineolum. He only hoped that he would be able to open this door as easily as the previous one.

A few hours must have passed, and the sun likely had risen again. The building, with its enclosed interior, had begun to heat up as if it were an oven, and Scamris' long, shaggy fur had become matted against his sides with his own sweat. His own stench had become unbearable, and the salt from his sweat had gotten between his paws, irritating him quite a bit. He muttered a low curse, not doubting that he'd break out in a rash later.

Taking deep breaths now, Scamris tried to track the scent of the prisoners over his own, something that proved both annoying and difficult. Even so, after a few unsuccessful ventures he was able to sniff out what seemed to be a dead animal. He didn't doubt that, with this terrible heat, one of the wolves had died and sort of been baked alive inside the room. Bringing himself to the smell, Scamris attempted to distinguish the wall from a door by touch, but found himself unable to, and simply yelled very loudly when he spoke.

"Hello! Prisoners?!" He was suprosed at how much the silence seemed to have amplified his voice, but he still strained himself to hear any sort of a response. He heard muffled scrabbling, about four meters farther ahead. Moving ahead the required distance, he put his ear to the wall (Or door) that he assumed that was there.

"Hello? Are you new? I haven't heard you before." The voice was plainly feminine, and was clear and calm, though rather quiet from malnutrition. It seemed oddly familiar, perhaps she'd been taken from his own pack? Likely.

"Errr, no, well, technically I would be but..Nevermind, I'm here to save all of you!"

"Hmmm..." It was not a good 'Hmmm' as most tend to be, and it held a sort of secret from Scamris. He hoped it wasn't that bad, and that she was merely overestimating the events.

"Hmmm? Is that a good Hmmm? I'd much prefer it to be."

"No, not really. Actually, I'm the only one here. There used to be three of us, but Foytin died on the way here, and Ka'Ugi passed away from the heat a few days ago, as you can probably smell. I'm Impenda, of the Darukei Tribe, who are you?"

"Scamris, of Turwegi Tribe. I thought the Harujim took more prisoners?"

"Well, yes, but those are manufactured into solders for their army. Rather unsettling how quickly they do it, and with such efficenicy too. I'm only here because they were using me as a barganing ship for my tribe's surrender, but I fear that the Darukei may well be extinct by now."

"Hmmm..."

Scamris pondered this. It seemed likely, the Harujim were known for their brutality, and he didn't see it past them to use mind games to gain a larger army. They'd already taken control of nearly the whole region, anything was game at this point. Absorbing whole tribes would send their forces into the hundreds, spelling trouble for their remaining army.

Scamris sighed, nothing was working out too well for anyone. Backing up a foot or two, he threw his body-weight into the steel. As it had done before, the rusted hinges gave way, except it stood perfectly balanced on its edge, not moving either way.

"Hang on, I'll get it." Impenda's voice came clear though the slightly ajar slab, and the metal began to tip. Yelping, Scamris lept out of the way, and with a resounding bang, his eyes opened...

There was no slight event, nothing happened to ease him back into reality, no, Siscarm was suddenly forced back into his body, his eyes snapping open, senses being returned in a single instant. He coughed, a bubble of blood popped and his nose became clogged with the red stuff, and a splatter of it went on the ground.

He stared across the grey landscape, feeling his heartbeat slow to usual, the taste of adrenaline subsiding with it. He felt the slight breeze that had graced the landscape, and he could feel the faint heartbeat from the femme that had lay atop him. Reaching his head behind, he nuzzled her gently, partially from weakness, partially from savouring the moment.

"Thank you."

[crise]

She hated this. This...sitting in nothing but silence. It was so, so boring. Sitting quietly like a good little girl was something not in Crise's nature. And yet... She just couldn't bring herself to leave the old Tundra brute. She'd grown rather fond of him in the time they'd spent together. It was rare for the femme to come in such close contact with others. Or rather, it was rare she remembered being in such close contact. She looked up to Kiminasom as if he were her grandfather, or father maybe. She wasn't quite sure which, knowing that he was a good few years older than herself but not knowing by how much. She was currently four, after all, old enough to technically be the daughter of an elder.

Yes, that's right. Forgetful Crise wasn't all that young compared to others. Granted, four years of age wasn't really that old. It was still a lot older than she acted most of the time though. A childish, joyful, curious nature surrounded by an air of innocense that resulted from a lifetime of forgotten memories was a decent excuse for why Crise often acted like a young pup instead of the gown femora she truely was. Age is all relative anyway, and reguardless of hers or the brute's she still looked up to him like the parental figures she could not recall from her own life.

Sighing, gray eyes wandered their way towards the sky as she lay silently atop Kiminasom, waiting as patiently as she could for him to wake up. Out of boredum she began to conjure shapes from the clouds. One resmebled a rabbit, another a flower. There was one that almost looked like a pawprint, and the fae found one that resembled a howling wolf. This was how she mainly spent the time, occassionally speaking her observations aloud just for the sake of hearing the sound of a voice.

She was in the middle of trying to figure out what shape an especially puffy cloud made when the old brute began to stir. Crise nearly jumpped out of her fur when he moved beneath and started spitting up blood. It was absolutely disgusting, to say the least. Her eyes squinted shut as she tried to block out the image, nose wrinkling in digust. She hadn't thought to remove herself from the old brute, not realizing that it might have made it a bit easier for him to cough and breath, and thus remained with her head resting atop his side.

Only when he nuzzled her did she open her eyes. Her head pivoted in his direction, her grey orbs staring into own. Slowly at first a smile began to tug on her maw. It wasn't long before it had exploded into a full blown grin and she lifted herself into a standing position. Reaching her head down, she affectionately nuzzled her nose into the old brute's neck again before letting him have some space to get his wits about him. She was just soo happy he was awake again.

"Kiminasom, are you alright?" she questioned innocently. "I was so worried! The darkness got to you before I could help!" Realizing her stream of questions and comments probably wasn't exactly what he needed to hear just yet, she bit her tongue in an attempt to remain silent. She was able to contain her words for maybe all of three minutes though, as another stream of excited chatter fell from her maw. "I'm soo glad you're awake! And guess what, guess what!" She paused with the intention of letting him guess, but her own excitement wouldn't let her wait that long. Barely seconds after she'd asked him to guess she went and supplied the correct answer. "I've remembered my name, Kiminasom! It's Crise! My name is Crise."

Finally the fae managed to let her words die off. She had babbled an aweful lot, and her companion needed some time to let his mind readjust to the present. She knew her endless chatter wasn't exactly helping, but she couldn't help herself. Kiminasom was awake again, and she knew what her name was. She could think of nothing else to add to such a perfect moment. Well, maybe having all of her memories returned to her would make the moment better, but at the moment she had all of the important ones and wasn't too worried about the rest. They would return in due time.

Sitting no more than a foot away from the elder, Crise's tail wagged rapidly back and forth in excitement. She couldn't wait to hear what he had to say in response. What would he think of her name? Would he be proud she remembered it? Why was she seeking approval anyways? Maybe it was because Kiminasom was the first parental figure she'd had in her life in a long time. And with all the patient answers he'd impressed her with earlier, maybe now it was her time to finally impress him.

[jiminiminy]

When the femme lifted herself off of Siscarm's body, he slowly lifted himself up. His legs were shaken from his collapse, and his mind needed a moment to sort itself out. First and foremost though, he needed to either confirm or deny that he was hurt. He didn't feel anything, but then again, he'd just woken up out of a near comatose state. He doubted that he really would have felt too much as long as his mind was still waking up.

Siscarm lifted each leg, watching each of them as he did so. All of them were working sufficently, and no sort of discomfort came from using them. Next Siscarm twisted his neck this way and that, trying to find any kinks. There were none, and his neck seemed fine. If his back was hurt, he wouldn't have been able to move at all, so he deduced that he was in a more or less good condition, but he was now covered in the soot and dust that layered the ground. Check that off the list.

In the middle of his self examination, the femme had spoken to him. THough he knew it was rude, Siscarm was forced to shift these questions away until he was finished what he was doing, but now that he had finished, Siscarm began to respond.

"Alright? Yes, I appear to be alright, but this dust is rather annoying. I suppose it'll go away eventually though. And no, not the darkness. I suppose you see the darkness, because you don't have anything to dream about. For me it's...it's almost like when you hear a really good story, and you begin to imagine what's happening is right before you, not in the words of the teller. It'd be better if my mind chose a happy story every once in a while though."

When the femme continued, giving Siscarm no time to respond to her request of a guess, he found himself not reacting as strongly as he would have in other circumstances.

"I've remembered my name, Kiminasom! It's Crise! My name is Crise."

"Hmmmm...Crise.... Siscarm pondered this. The name seemed interesting to him, more like a nickname than a real name. "It's interesting, Crise seems to be a play on words of Crisis, but your parents couldn't have known about your condition when you were only a few months old. Crise seems to be more of a...title or something."

Siscarm's mind wandered back to his own name. Siscarm. The wanderer, the mover, the exile. Of all his titles, that was his true one, and the one that he hated the most. It was no wonder that he kept it secret, though he doubted that anyone spoke that language anymore except him. But Crise seemed worthy enough, perhaps...

"Siscarm" He paused for a moment. He hadn't really meant to say that, he hadn't his wits about him yet, but now it seemed that he'd have to wing it. "That's my name, or title, or whatever, just like Kiminasom is. That's what Sir Exodus called me the first time we met, The Grey One, except,"

Siscarm looked down at his dusty white body. He really hoped that wouldn't stain, or else he'd have to reintroduce himself to everyone around here. "I'm not so much grey right now. Call me either, really, but know that my name is Siscarm as much as yours is Crise."

There, he'd done it. Perhaps he could've worded that better, but it was done now, and he remained silent, allowing his words to sink in. But all the while, speaking or not, Siscarm kept his back to the structures, not wanting to pass into the past again.

[crise]

Crise waited as patiently as she could for any responce from the old old. Her tail thumpped excitedly against the ground at she watched him streatch out this way and that, wondering what on earth he was doing. She never stretched after waking up from one of her spells. Then again, she was often so confused and contained such an empty head that her first thoughts were usually to get up and investigate whatever was around her. Stretching seemed like a trivial waste of time, unless she knew she was in pain. If she could move without a problem, there was no reason test out all the directions in which every little part of her body could move. That was boring and she often had better things to do, like recovering her memories.

At the sound of his voice, her face lit up like a flourescent light bulb, ears tuned acutely to what he had to say. His words were always so fascinating, and she didn't want to miss a single one. "And no, not the darkness." These words threw the femme for a loop, and if possible she tuned her auds to pay even closer attention than she already was. 'He wasn't claimed by the darkness?' According to Kiminasom, he was claimed by a story...a dream. All Crise had ever known when she collapsed was darkness.

"I wish I had dreams instead of nothing but darkness all the time," she muttered as she listened. Though, an odd thought suddenly struck her. What if she did dream? "Or I wish I could remember them, at least." Her memory was so faulty there was a good chance she did have dreams. If she could rarely ever remember the events that occured while conscious, however, it made perfect sense that she would remember even less of what happened in her subconscious. After all, it was much harder to reclaim the memories of the subconscious than it was the conscious.

She remained quiet again when he began commenting about her name. This is what she had really wanted to hear. She wanted to know what he'd thought of her name. She personally kind of liked it. It was short and yet interresting, a lot of information packed into one little word. She had not a clue of how well the name fit her. Well, she didn't until the old brute began to ponder over it's meaning.

'Crisis? Hmm...' She was brought out of her thoughts by something else Kiminasom said, and instantly her head shook in protest. "...but your parents couldn't have known about your condition when you were only a few months old." With remembering her name came remembering many of her memories. It was as if that one word had been the stick holding the entire dam together, and once she pulled it from the recesses of her mind everything else came tumbling back with it. "I've always fainted," she stated rather matter-of-factly. "I remember my mommy once telling me my heart sounded funny or something, and there were lots of times when I was a pup that I was consumed by darkness. Just..." she trailed off for a few moments, a little unsure of what she was about to say. "It's just that when I was little every time I woke up I still had all my memories... The whole forgetting everything didn't happen until I was older..."

There. She'd said it. She hadn't really wanted to, not liking what those words brought to her broken mind. She remembered the hunt. She remembered hitting her head. She remembered that after that dreadful event she hadn't been the same since. And thinking back that far brought back happy memories of wolves she'd brought so much harm and chaos to. Effectively bumming herself out, Crise was now beginning to wish she hadn't remembered anything at all. It really sucked. Here she was with the gift to forget all her troubles, and yet she often forgot so much that seeking to remember brought back everything that was worth forgetting.

Sighing, her gaze fell to her paws as she became less interested in what the old brute had to say. She was still listening to him, yes. She just wasn't as interested in paying attention as she was a few minutes ago. Thinking of her family, of creatures she hadn't seen in years, was really depressing for the normally happy fae. Heck, at one point in her life she had even had a mate, though she refused to think of what ended that relationship. She was still rather shaking on some of her darker memories, and while the happy ones were enough to bum her out the darker ones would making damn near suicidal. Not that she wasn't already suicidal... The events of her past had made Crise try and take her own life a few times. The water just didn't like cooperating and often left her wet, tired, hungry, and washed up on some shore.

"Siscarm?" The Mexican femora suddenly snapped back to attention when the brute blurted out his real name. Why hadn't he told her that in the first place? "Why did you introduce yourself as Kiminasom then? Siscarm's soo much easier to pronounce." The look on her face was one of bewilderment as she looked at him. Padding quietly over to him, she positioned herself so that she stood in front of the male and looked up into his eyes. Her head cocked to one side as she simply stared at him for a minute. Then, her tail slowly began to wag as she smiled up at him. "I'm gonna call you Siscarm, if you don't mind. It's just soo much shorter," she giggled. Sparing a glance past him to the crumbling buildings, she added, "Now let's get outta here. This place is kinda creepy."

Crise padded a few feet away from Siscarm before turning and looking at him expectantly. She had no clue where she wanted to go or what she wanted to do. She didn't really want to stick around Kalus's Post though. The place gave her the willies, and the less time they needed to stay there the better. The old brute didn't really seem all that fond of the place with the buildings anyways, so she doubted he'd have much opposition to leaving.

[jiminiminy]

Siscarm's mind didn't want to agree with him it would seem. He had already suffered two seperate lapses in the last week, and as the newly dubbed Crise spoke again, Siscarm nearly suffered a third.

"I remember my mommy once telling me my heart sounded funny or something, and there were lots of times when I was a pup that I was consumed by darkness. Just..." she trailed off for a few moments, a little unsure of what she was about to say. "It's just that when I was little every time I woke up I still had all my memories... The whole forgetting everything didn't happen until I was older..."

Siscarm spoke in response to this, not really requiring much thought past the actual words.

"That's an awful shame. No wolf should have to endure a burden such as ours, but you've been having these since you were a pup. Your innocence was lost at a young age, but perhaps you held onto it longer than I expect..."

The innocence lost as a child seemed now to be reflected as overspill into Crise's adulthood, though she no longer had a choice in the matter. This lost innocence seemed to be keeping her alive, as, in his own situation, Siscarm had contimplated suicide many times himself. It was unfortunate that doing so would be in violation of the terms...

It was then that his mind absorbed the words he'd spoken earlier. Of the fact that no pup should have to endure hardship. His mind begun working upon things that he'd much rather not be worked upon. The sections of his brain that had been gathering dust were now puttering about his lost childhood memories. They were not good, not at all. Siscarm began to feel the welling of emotion inside of him, as the forgotten attempted to become real.

No. Not this. This is worse than all of the last. We don't want to remember.

The tugging on his consicousness stopped briefly, before it began to seep through his mind back to its resting place. It was then that Siscarm began to take note of his surroundings again. Crise seemed to have begun trotting away, but the elder wolf was unsure if she had a set destination or not. Not particulary dwelling on it, Siscarm meandered his way along side of her and repeated his minor concern.

"Do you have any place in mind Crise? I can take you to most places on the continent, so the road is open, but the choice is yours."

ooc: Best I could do. Sorry Nali.

[crise]

"That's an awful shame. No wolf should have to endure a burden such as ours, but you've been having these since you were a pup. Your innocence was lost at a young age, but perhaps you held onto it longer than I expect..."

The sudden mood shift within Crise could be consider shocking. It was certaintly unexpected. Her entire body tensed as her ears backed down, pain flashing into her eyes and refusing to leave. What the old male had said... It, it had triggered something with her that she hadn't wanted to surface. While she had by no means recovered all of her memories, up on till that point most of what she had recalled were things that she could live with without much regret. Now... Now the memories she almost never recovered were surfacing and she closed her eyes tightly in an attempt to block them out.

Death... It seemed to follow her around where ever she ended up. And yet, Death refused to claim her. Graphic images flashed past her mind's eye, the history she often forgot and rarely remembered staining her cheeks with tears. Her eyes saw red. It was everywhere, and yet completely nonexistent. It was on the ground, in her fur, and decorating the corpses that supposedly lay before her. Prey... The occassional stranger... Her former mate Telmar... Her sister Fleur... Her conscious was stained with the deaths of them all, and the seemingly innocent, happy go lucky Crise was currently no wheres to be found.

Snapping her eyes open harshly, she turned her stone cold gaze on Siscarm. Her normally melodic, cheerful voice was emotionless. In all truth, Crise was no wheres near as naive as she often let on. Yes, she wasn't the brightest bulb, often lacking commonplace knowledge. She knew more about the hardships of life than most, however, four years of a faulty mind and blood stained past much more than anyone willingly wants to live though. "Innocence is a fabrication of the mind." Her voice was unwavering as she spoke of what she'd come to realize a long time ago. "If there is such a thing, it's lost the moment eyes are opened."

For many long moments the female fell silent, her paws carrying her slowly through the dying land. She was very sombre, and cared now how the change had affected her aged companion. He was a smart fellow. Surely Siscarm could understand what she meant. Of course, if he wanted to pry into her life she'd probably tell him everything. She always felt so much safer when there was someone out there who could tell her who she was, every little detail of her life, the good and the bad. "Life is not a matter of seeking the truth. It is a matter of choosing whether or not to accept it. The less I try to accept of it, the happier I am."

Several tears made their way down the cheeks of the femme's face before she shook out her pelt. Now more than ever she felt that one of those cursed blackouts would be one of her greatest blessings. She was also rather put out that there was no body of water around. Death was a good way to silence the mind. Of course, twice she'd tried to drown herself and twice she'd failed. Right now the best she could help for was to go someplace quite and calm, someplace touched only by nature and secluded from the harshness of reality. "Siscarm... Can we go someplace where there are lots of other wolves around?" Company was always a great distraction from thinking too much, and the light cheer that normally graced her expression was begining to return.

[jiminiminy]

As the younger Crise spoke, Siscarm remained silent, pondering her words carefully. She had become serious, the ignorant bliss gone from every part of her body and she came to realize that the world is better off when you know nothing. This was the time for Siscarm to reflect upon himself as he truged through the forsaken lands, pondering as Crise spoke the words that he himself had realized generations ago. How life is not a good thing, each day in knowledge worse than the last, that when a wolf first opens their eyes, takes a first breath, it is a mistake. Only those that choose not to live are truly good and pure, and as his own words replayed in his mind he was reminded of how stupid he was when he made the deal, sealing himself in his fractured life. Perhaps he should discuss that next time he went around.

In his deep thought, Siscarm trudged through many minutes before he responded to Crise's words. As she had changed, Siscarm changed as well, reverting to the wolf that few saw, the genuine, almost priestly canine that had wisdom beyond most.

"Age is not of importance for wisdom it seems. You speak of things beyond most wolves' minds, willing to sacrifice the gift of knowledge for the bliss of ignorance. Perhaps if I were as intelligent as you in my younger days things might have turned out... differently. And of the matter of more wolves, there are three recorded pack on this land. To the south lies the Aldgar Pack, led by Sir Xinelil, the Southwest has the Salen Pack, formed by Sir Exodus, and the West holds the Zahir Pack, which I know only in name. You must howl before traversing any of the lands, I cannot stress that enough, and if you meet any of the alphas, tell them the Grey Elder sent you. Unfortunatly I am unable to help you past here."

Siscarm stopped, holding his position on the dusty plain. He turned his snout to face the north. There lay an outline of jagged peaks, the same colour as the ground off in the distance. They had been unnamed by Siscarm, though others had made attempts to do so. Here his destination lay.

"I have business to the north, I must deal with my past before it overwhelms me. If you choose to travel to a pack, I will be sure to visit you when I return."

He turned to face Crise once again. He touched his nose to her forehead, murmuring soft words as he did so. "Atheem humarah e jequwei." He made no effort to translate the ancient farewell. He nodded softly, turning slowly away. "May Xenium guide your path." Siscarm said this louder than the previous line, before he began to trudge northwards. He would return to the lands eventually, then he would seek out Crise once more for a little visit.

Exit Siscarm