[P]  Giving Back

Cecil

9 y/o medium Male
© Lyca
   
Can you tell me a secret? Can you tell me what's wrong with me?

Cecil could never fully describe what using Mind’s Eye was like. It had been months? Years? Since he relied on his sight to take in information. Yet every step he took, his spell seemed to reach out, stretching its tendrils and touching anything and everything close enough, relaying information to its master as best as it could. The man could not “see” the tall pines around him in a literal sense, but his Mind’s Eye allowed him to sense them: seeing the trees, his surroundings as black and white pictures. 

He paused for a moment, his ears twitching every which way absorbing the sounds of the forest while giving himself a moment to reminisce. He could remember walking through this forest with Alwyn, sharing meals among the large roots, watching his mate spar with a fellow knight or two… Cecil’s head tilted back, sightless eyes staring up at the sky before they squeezed shut, his expression displayed for just a moment the immense sadness that had not ebbed in the three years that had passed since he lost his mate. 

“I wish you were here, Alwyn… I don’t want to do this alone,” he murmured softly to the sky.

Cecil breathed in deeply, familiar scents of The Order’s territory flooded his senses, and then he sighed, continuing his journey. When his spell began to send images of the ruins to his mind he knew exactly where he was. He could remember the ruins clear as day, it was such a vivid image in his mind. The weary man settled on his haunches. He did not speak, he did not call out, he just waited. He could smell that there were wolves here and they surely had seen or sensed his approach. 

He did not know what he could offer The Order. He had been against Alwyn joining them the moment his mate had been accepted as a knight. Cecil had knowledge of herbs and plants: his father had made doubly sure that he learned a useful skill since he was so weak-willed. Yet… he wanted to give back… in some way to the coven that had given him and his mate a purpose, if only for a brief time.

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Anaru

4 y/o large Female
© Centience
Anaru Tempearia †

She was growing irritable as the weeks passed, more and more her temper was becoming less stable. Typically a woman of refined, reserved nature. Professional at every turn was growing nasty, impatient and even more harsh than she'd ever known to be. Odin had gifted her reassurance, he'd been here at her side and tried his best to wash away her doubts and fears of motherhood all while handling his own insecurities. The truth of their situation becoming clearer each day as Anaru felt the nausea and heartburn and began to pack on some weight around her midsection. This was very real, and within the next month or so they would be parents. It seemed her fate to grow up quickly, to take on more responsibility than she should at her age never ceased. 

She rose early from the den they'd created, the bed of the flood lined in beautiful pelts, he'd promised her a comfortable place to bring their children into this world to keep them safe and warm. She wouldn't be surprised if he came home with another trophy to add to their tucked away home. Already it bore that of a bear, plush and warm it was the place she'd chosen to take as their primary bed, surrounded by the lush fur of two foxes as well. One part of her felt reluctant to rise this morning, she wanted to stay there with Odin and give into her fatigue, but there was another piece of her that was determined to carry on her duties as usual. So she forced herself up, her muscles reluctant to work with her she slowly drew herself from the darkness of the space blinking away the sunlight of the summer sun. 

Slowly she made her way through the grove, dipping into the more central parts of her home, for the first time in what felt like forever, able to check in on things and patrol like she typically would. She drew then from the heart of Founders, delicate paws padding closer to the outskirts to check her borders. The scent of a newcomer was noted almost immediately, long tufted audits flicking slightly in acknowledgement, she sighed and began toward him. 

As the man came into view the first thing noticed was his striking horns, they were certainly a head turner, a trophy upon a mantle, large curling white horns upon a rather slender earthen frame. His eyes were something otherworldly, the entire make of his pools stark white and markings adorned his face - tribal perhaps? The Patriarch would give a dip of her head as she approached, "Welcome brother," she sighed, trying to catch her breath from her travels, even though she was not moving fast the fatigue her body felt was all too real. "What can I do for you?" she finally added 

"Anaru speaking,"


Table by Centience. Art seventhunderbolts @ Deviantart
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Cecil

9 y/o medium Male
© Lyca
Cecil’s long ears pricked forwards at the sound of an approach. His Mind’s Eye reached forwards to grab information almost immediately: sending feedback to its owner in turn and the man found himself seeing a regal wolf, with beautiful long fur, huge feathers in the place of where a furred tail would normally be, a silken shawl that draped over her back, flowing over the wings that sprouted from her hips. 

His ears twitched as she spoke as if trying to catch every word that cascaded from her maw and his head turned towards her though his sightless eyes stared at nothing. He could hear the fatigue in her voice, the way she paused between speaking to pant as if trying to catch her breath. He didn’t need his Mind’s Eye to tell that the woman was with child, or perhaps more than one? 

“Are you alright?” he questioned without a second thought, concern etching onto his once blank countenance. He blinked and dipped his head, realizing that the question might’ve been sudden and he had not even answered hers. “Ah… I-I’m sorry. My name is Cecil. Would you perhaps be part of the order?” he asked tentatively. “I’ve come to join it in… in honor of my mate,” he answered honestly.

"Speech." 'Thoughts.'
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Anaru

4 y/o large Female
© Centience
Anaru Tempearia †

“Are you alright?” Anaru would lift a single brow at the man, studying the concern that lined his earthen face. She allowed the pause to filter between them "Yes, brother i'm just fine" she mused finally. Not long before his stammering apology came forth. “Ah… I-I’m sorry. My name is Cecil. Would you perhaps be part of the order?” a smirk came to touch the womans pale maw. But she allowed him to speak his following words before she'd answer, “I’ve come to join it in… in honor of my mate,” well that was something, not a reason she'd heard before at least. 

"I am Anaru, the Maronite Patriarch, so i'm just who you'll need then" the female leader of The order, similar to the alpha female in most common packs. The single thing she'd spent her entire life training to become, and now there was another role falling upon her shoulders. Mother. She never thought; well maybe one day. But when she was older, more experienced and ready to raise the next generation of Eleutheria's children. But she had to trust that the great horse felt she was ready for this. Why else would she? The woman sighed, pushing the thoughts to the wayside so she could focus on her visitor. 

"Of course, you are welcome here brother. This will always be your home;" she explained. And she wondered... "I hope you don't mind me being so forward, but can I ask what happened to your mate?" she could only guess of course that it was the result of the war...


"Anaru speaking,"


Table by Centience. Art seventhunderbolts @ Deviantart
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Cecil

9 y/o medium Male
© Lyca
A small part of him was still fretting, wondering if she was annoyed at him for speaking out of turn. He certainly hoped not. He did not want his first impression to be one of nuisance especially when the young woman introduced herself as the patriarch. Cecil blinked again, surprise springing onto his features. He did not think he would meet someone of such high rank upon his first steps into the territory. He dipped his head again, this time in a proper bow. 

“Excuse me, I did not think I would be meeting with the patriarch today.” Thinking back on it he had not had the pleasure of meeting the previous patriarchs, it was, after all, Alwyn whom had affiliated himself so closely with The Order. “Thank you,” he murmured quietly as she stated that he was always welcome. His ears pricked forward as she continued and he felt his chest tighten in anticipation at her question, his eyes looked… sorrowful. 

“My mate was a knight that had joined The Order during the war. A stag affinity took his life right in front of me before taking my sight,” the words came out frustrated, angry, but mostly sad. His sightless eyes grew hard, determined as he lifted his head, appearing almost as if he were staring at Anaru. 

“Truthfully, I am not a fighter, but I have much knowledge about plants and herbs. I would like to offer whatever I can to The Order.”

"Speech." 'Thoughts.'
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Anaru

4 y/o large Female
© Centience
Anaru Tempearia †

“Excuse me, I did not think I would be meeting with the patriarch today.” a small smirk touched her lips, "There's no need to fret Cecil" she assured him, no, all of her people were welcome here, even the rude and unkempt. She hadn't kicked Fallyn out yet. She doubted even he would ever do anything that would warrant her denying him refuge in the grove, it was the birth right of all Mundane to call the grove home. She knew there had been individuals who'd been denied access before but it was a rare occurrence at best. The conversation shifted back, and while she didn't acknowledge the air of sadness that lingered about him, she did notice it. “My mate was a knight that had joined The Order during the war. A stag affinity took his life right in front of me before taking my sight,” a sigh escaped her lips at this, golden eyes falling down briefly she allowed a moment of silence to overtake her in honor of their fallen brethren. 

Eyes dancing upward as he too rose his head, a new found determination igniting within him. And he appeared to be staring right at her, intent burning within those ivory pools; she was impressed with how much emotion they could reflect still. “Truthfully, I am not a fighter, but I have much knowledge about plants and herbs. I would like to offer whatever I can to The Order.” she nodded, "The order has many fighters" she explained, "Never feel like your skill is not of value, without our Bishops to tend to them; our Knights cannot fight." she added gently. 

"I would be honored to welcome you into our ranks as a Bishop Cecil; perhaps I will have the honor of calling you High bishop someday" she cooed, with his resolve to do what he could to avenge his mates tragic death she was certain he would not disappoint her. 


"Anaru speaking,"


Table by Centience. Art seventhunderbolts @ Deviantart
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Cecil

9 y/o medium Male
© Lyca
The man tilted his head a bit. Bishop? He supposed he had assumed when he was younger that The Order only really accepted those who could defend and fight for their cause. Despite how close he had been with Alwyn there was much his mate did not tell him. Though his assumptions sounded as though they weren’t completely unfounded as Anaru claimed they had no shortage of Knights. At her words a fond smile seemed to work its way onto the man’s face, remembering the way Alwyn would come back to him, limping and bleeding begging him to tend to his wounds. 

‘None of the bishops in the order treat me right!’ he would complain. All lies of course. He had simply wanted to see him, but Cecil did not deny his mate when he did.

“I suppose you are right,” he said, his voice sounding lighter, a little hopeful. The umber-hued man straightened, holding his head a little higher. A soft laugh left his maw at the idea of rising to a higher rank one day. “Perhaps. It’s very easy for me to know the futures of others, but when it comes to my own… I’m very uncertain,” he commented quietly. “Nonetheless, thank you for accepting me. I’ll try my best to serve the order in any way that I can.” 


"Speech." 'Thoughts.'
table © freakshow
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