So, I wrote this thing cuz Tom won't shut up about how Garret's gonna die. So I wrote this little OOC story that's not meant to offend anyone or cause problems. It's just.... supposed to entertain. Okay? Here we go...
Three Years Later
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Megan Ryan moced slowly down the path, almost warily. Six monthes she’d served the Sept of Vigilant Light and yet she’d never thought to walk this light-dappled, almost overgrown, path. It felt like a sacred place.
Megan, cliath Theurge of the Nation and rited “Tears Down the Wall” to the Children of Gaia, had known the Rite Mistress since she arrived. The woman had been Den Mother when Megan was a cub, and had achieved the position of Mistress of the Rite shortly after Megan made cliath. Nothing had really changed for Megan, except for her teacher’s title. She still spent most of her time with the athro Theurge and still idolized her. That was why the Alpha had sent Megan to seek out where their Rite Mistress had gone to. Megan had protested but the Alpha wouldn’t listen.
The sweet smell of flowers in the summer assaulted hre nostrils and she paused for a moment. Megan could see the clearing up ahead but she hesitated. She felt uneasy, as if she was trespassing. She thought about turning back.
But the voice of her packmate danced in her mind. Typical Theurge, going on gut feeling alone. She sighed and stepped out of the woods.
The little clearing glowed golden in the last evening rays. The grass was the perfect spring green and small groups of wild flowers sprung up with seemingly no pattern at all. The smell was almost intoxicatingly sweet and she viewed a large bee’s nest at one end of the clearing that gave off the smell of honey.
Megan’s eyes were wide with wonder as she gazed around the clearing, beautiful and full of life. It took her a second to see the large stone structure in back.
It was a crude statue. From the look of it, the implement used to carve the creation was… claws. It resembled a wolf, standing tall and looking at her. It had bright onyx orbs set in sockets for eyes and the eyes gazed at her. For a moment… she felt like it could see her. That it was watching her. … Like it was smiling at her.
She moved closer to the statue in wonder.
Along the base, she noticed as she grew closer, one word was etched very very carefully.
“Deartháir”.
Megan ran her fingers over the carved word, cocking her head and trying to pronounce it.
“Is there a reason you are here, Tears Down the Wall?” Came the cold voice behind her.
“Rite Mistress!” Megan jumped up and spun to look at her elder.
The woman before her was nineteen years old and very pretty. She had a bundle of flowers in her arms and the knees of her plain jeans as well as the gardening gloves she wore were covered in dirt. Her brown hair was pulled up off her face in a messy bun but a few wisps had escaped to plaster themselves to her face, which was shiny with sweat and dirt.
“Yes. That is my title. May I ask what you’re doing here?” The Rite Mistress looked Megan up and down.
“I… The Alpha wanted you.” Megan stuttered, looking around and feeling her cheeks turn red under her teacher’s unwavering eyes.
She rolled her eyes and turned away. “Rash pup.” She snarled to herself.
Megan looked mortified. “You shouldn’t-“
“He was my cub before he was your Alpha, Megan. He knows what today is and anything he has to tell me can wait until tomorrow.” She turned dismissively and moved to a few holes that had already been dug.
“But-“
“No buts. I will speak with him tomorrow and accept whatever punishment the philodox see fit. Today I will do what I must.” Her voice was oddly sad.
“What today is… Rhya?” Megan moved a step closer hesitantly.
“Yes, Megan. What today is.” She began to plant the flowers.
“May I help you?” She knelt beside her teacher.
“Hand me that bundle right there.” The woman pointed and Megan obeyed. The cliath looked around warily.
“There’s no gardening tools.” She said, furrowing her brow.
“This is a place of the Wyld, Meg. I would not bring weaver tools here.” Her teacher smiled a sad smile towards her.
They sat in silence for awhile, planting some more flowers.
“What’s today, Ari?” The young cliath whispered down to the earth as she dug at the ground with her bare hands.
“Today is the anniversary of the death of someone very dear to me.” Arianna Fireau said as she adjusted the leaves of some of the lilies she was planting.
Megan sat up a little bit and blinked at Ari in surprise. “Death? Who?” She baulked a little bit and wracked her brain.
“It was before you came.” She said quickly. “Years ago. He was my packmate.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Megan dipped her head, feeling the embarrassment creep onto her features.
“Hey. Hey. Raise your head little one.” A glove clad finger pushed her chin upwards. “He was Lupus and would not want us to grieve for him. I do not mourn his death, I celebrate his life.” She looks around the clearing. “This was his garden, his sanctuary.” Her voice was sad again. “I have tended to it since his death.”
“What was he like?” Megan asked softly.
“He was Lupus to the core.” Arianna smiled down at her dirty hands. “First time he ever rode in a car… he threw up and I think he cried. After that every time we went on one he made me Sense Wyrm on it. He was brave though, he’d protect me from anything and everything. And he used to play guitar beautifully, could bring tears to your eyes.” She glanced over at Megan and Megan saw muddy tear streaks staining her face.
“Ari…” Megan reached out in surprise, looking to touch her. In her months of knowing the athro she had hardly seen her frown, let alone cry.
“He saved me, I think… Saved me from the Glasswalker’s curse. Of dancing to the beat of the Mad Spider and losing yourself to the Weaver. He taught me how to run, how to hunt, how to laugh. He taught me…” She looked down and back up. “He taught me that I’m not the same as my machines and that they are tools, not a lifestyle choice. He taught me what it means to love something with all your heart, with all of your being.”
Megan didn’t know what to say. She just stared at her teacher and felt her lip tremble.
“Is that why…”
“Why I’ve never joined another long term pack? Yes.” She said softly. “I’ve packed for certain missions in temporary packs but… No.” She shook her head. “He was family, Megan. I haven’t found that again.”
“Wouldn’t he want you to pack?” Megan cocked her head.
“He’d want me to be happy. I am happy. I have the position I’ve always dreamed of. I am teaching people and helping my Sept and my Nation. He knows that packs aren’t supposed to be for the hell of it. I will pack when I find someone.” She shook her head and kept gardening.
“What do you want me to tell the Alpha?” Megan whispered.
“Tell Staren that I am indisposed and will return tomorrow.” Arianna said, sounding tired.
Meg nodded and stood, dusting off her knees. She stood and turned to go before pausing and rocking on her heels.
“What was his name?”
Arianna looked up and paused.
“Dreamwalker.” She said with a small smile before turning her head back down to the plants. When she opened her mouth again the cliath was gone and she spoke to the tiny blossoms of color. “But I knew him as Deartháir.”
Topic: Because Marc Told Me To (Read 2433 times)