Post by Warin Ilmatar on Oct 2, 2017 20:37:34 GMT
He was silent as she spoke. It started out much as he might expect it to- wasn't that the same song and dance many packs had gone through? He hadn't been born into one. He had been born into military held by a strong hand (he can't even remember now who they were supposed to be fighting for). Not fighting hadn't been an option. It had been unthinkable, until he was much older. So he held his tongue and hung onto her words, stowing the details to be compared to memories he had of the areas and of the time, wondering if perhaps he had known some of this before and yet never connected the two.
'My mate, as I found when the bond established at that time. Erick.'
He knew how it would end, before she got there. It made his heart hurt. Part of him wondered if he should have known from her vehemence. It didn't really change anything and yet... it changed a lot. It changed how he recalled some of their arguments. He did not, however, expect her to speak of the loss of children. It was so personal. He started to reach out to her then stopped, uncertain, and settled back. And yet the tone of the story shifted, lifted even as she spoke of their success when they finally gained enough strength to settle and to hold their own. If you follow a story long enough, though, it inevitably ends in tragedy.
He didn't really know what to say for a moment. The story wasn't what he'd expected. She had given him something much more personal than just the history of the pack. Then again, the history of the pack was her history. He reached out again, this time his fingertips coming to rest lightly against her shoulder. He wanted to hold her, to offer comfort, but he wasn't sure she wanted it- from him or anyone. What did you say to a story like that? I'm sorry? It fell flat in his mind. The way her voice had changed still echoed in his mind, though it had been for only a moment, a few sentences.
"Few good things come out of war. This pack is a good thing. I will strive to honor it's history." His voice was soft, serious. The words rang almost as those of a pledge, though perhaps not intentionally.
'My mate, as I found when the bond established at that time. Erick.'
He knew how it would end, before she got there. It made his heart hurt. Part of him wondered if he should have known from her vehemence. It didn't really change anything and yet... it changed a lot. It changed how he recalled some of their arguments. He did not, however, expect her to speak of the loss of children. It was so personal. He started to reach out to her then stopped, uncertain, and settled back. And yet the tone of the story shifted, lifted even as she spoke of their success when they finally gained enough strength to settle and to hold their own. If you follow a story long enough, though, it inevitably ends in tragedy.
He didn't really know what to say for a moment. The story wasn't what he'd expected. She had given him something much more personal than just the history of the pack. Then again, the history of the pack was her history. He reached out again, this time his fingertips coming to rest lightly against her shoulder. He wanted to hold her, to offer comfort, but he wasn't sure she wanted it- from him or anyone. What did you say to a story like that? I'm sorry? It fell flat in his mind. The way her voice had changed still echoed in his mind, though it had been for only a moment, a few sentences.
"Few good things come out of war. This pack is a good thing. I will strive to honor it's history." His voice was soft, serious. The words rang almost as those of a pledge, though perhaps not intentionally.
