Vivarium - Great Woodlands

Mending a Bond

Sun, 08 Nov 2026 21:58:19 -0500

Hjalmar had no idea why he was sitting and waiting around. Snuh just seemed so enthusiastic, wanting him to stay here for when she got back. He just sat there, wondering why she even wanted him in the first place.

It clearly wasn't some sort of hunting even, and Snuh didn't seem to be in the mood for another sparring session. Snuh was soon in sight, and it was obvious that she wasn't alone. Who she was with though, did bring a surprise to Hjalmar's face.

Sweet Cherokee Rose

Sun, 08 Nov 2026 20:58:46 -0500

A new dawn, a new day. Yona had been awake for a few hours, rising from the den he had found after his initial entrance into this world during the night. There was so much to get used to. The land was thick with dense forests, snow no longer blanketing the ground he walked upon. Though the air was still cold, signaling that Autumn was the season of this strange land. Winter would soon be upon him again, that much was sure. If only he knew why the seasons had suddenly changed so much. Home was surely on the path of total darkness for months.

Snow kept him from returning, taking him away until there was nothing left. Now he was stuck in this new world. Golden eyes looked around, taking in the sights of the thick trees. Their leaves had changed colors, ranging from deep reds to brilliant golds and oranges. There was a crisp feeling in the air, the kind that let his breath show as he took a heavy sigh. The sun was warm and bright as it rose over the horizon. A welcome sight for the young male. A sign that things were not all that dreadful in the long run. But now there was only one question left. Where did he go from here?

my heart goes (la di da)

Sun, 08 Nov 2026 16:10:41 -0500

AW — At the outskirts of Ichorwood!

Her curiosity blossomed with each passing day.

It seemed like actual torture to stay confined within the dark labyrinth of the Grove. And now that she was older, she felt perhaps a bit more entitled to a life of adventure. Either that, or it was some sort of soft, teenage rebellious streak that she was experiencing. Either way, she made her way through the wooded fields with a smile on her face.

It wasn't that she minded spending time at home; there was just something about the way the sunlight danced through the foliage that called to her. The azure sky above matched the hues of her eyes, and the billowing clouds allowed the light to flitter down to the earth like dancing motes. The world was alight with movement and light, the colors of the autumn totally new to her.

A soft laugh escaped her lips as she skipped forward, chasing after fluttering leaves and twirling through the kaleidoscopic light. Her long limbs pulled her forward, golden fur fluttering in the breeze. And it was not long before she ended up at the border of the strange forest. The trees here were even brighter than the others, their leaves fully saturated in a deep crimson. The bark of the trees was white, etched with dark carvings that mirrored eyes.

Her smile remained on her face, her head tilting upward to look at the uniquely-hued canopy. A soft, dreamy sigh escaped the curled edges of her dark lips, azure eyes open and admiring the landscape.

The world found new ways to surprise her every day.

Evening Discovery

Sun, 08 Nov 2026 15:31:27 -0500

It was an incredibly eventful string of events that had led Jakten to move to an entirely new territory. So much had happened that Mara could barely process it all. When the announcement was made that the pack was moving, Mara was secretly pissed.

They weren’t going to stand their ground? They weren’t going to put an end to those that threatened them? Make an example out of them? It didn’t make sense. The wolves sharing the same sentiment chose to split with the pack entirely, and to be honest, she didn’t like that either. Maybe she just didn’t know what to think anymore.

In the end, Mara chose to go with Jakten. To let it go. Not because she agreed, but because she knew it wasn’t the end. She chose loyalty to this pack and she had her own ambitions as well. She wasn’t about to let that all go to waste.

The sun was slowly setting on the horizon as the ever so disgruntled she wolf eyed her new surroundings suspiciously.

every second counts

Sat, 07 Nov 2026 17:34:34 -0500

twitch has never been particularly good at going anywhere with purpose. most of her walks begin with a vague intention to stretch her legs and end somewhere entirely unrelated, usually because something interesting has caught her attention along the way. today, it is a narrow trail winding through the undergrowth, half-concealed beneath a generous scattering of fallen leaves.

she follows it without much thought, occasionally lowering her muzzle to investigate something in the dirt. a feather, a curious smell, the abandoned shell of some unfortunate beetle. nothing terribly exciting, but she has never required much in the way of entertainment.

New to This Whole Thing

Fri, 06 Nov 2026 23:15:35 -0500

The fall weather was much cooler than the summer. Not too hot, and yet not too cold either for Ultan. He never did get a chance as a pup to enjoy the weather around him, but there was something about this weather that he particularly liked. The changing colors of the leaves were a sight to behold. Even if he was briefly away from Ev for the time being, this was a moment that he was quite enjoying by himself.

The leaves seemed to be a symbol of Ultan himself. He was nothing more than a training fighter and killer. Something soulless and pale in the heart. His freedom now, his heart could relate to the change of the leaves before him. His head lowered to the ground, taking in the scent of the land around him, as a light breeze brought down a cascade of leaves from the trees.

Ultan looked up with awe, as he smiled watching all the colors of fall above him as if they were dancing in celebration of the seasons.

they call it freefall

Thu, 05 Nov 2026 13:54:20 -0500

Chessie was flying. Flying and flying and flying and... falling. Oh by the MOTHER SHE WAS FALLING! She screamed, her throat guttural from a lack of use as she screamed and cried as she fell from far too high to survive... and landed with an unharmed thud on a jutting flat of stone head spinning from her flight and... well, everything. She had just been fighting. And then, as her last breath fluttered from her lips, she had begun flying. And subsequently falling not long after. She could smell no trace of her home, the home she had fought for, and as she realized her pelt had stayed the same and she bore her scars from her previous life... all of them. She only bore one eye, scars patterning her thick coat, and as she investigated farther... she quite liked this form.

It was nice, attractive, supple. It suited her quite well, although she would need to build the muscle so she could continue to be of service to the realm, well... this new one. She would protect. As she had always done. But... perhaps with a new name. Chessie had popped into her head as she had begun falling, and it seemed to fit her perfectly. Perhaps that is what this body would be called, then. Chessie. She liked it. At peace, it whispered to her, begging her to take the peaceful life that had been offered to her, but... no. She was not a peaceful female. She was fiery and fierce.

tag:
note: please allow missy and/or aly to post first, then anyone from Velaris may join in. <3

Sunkissed Shadows

Thu, 05 Nov 2026 11:10:16 -0500

An empty stomach was enough to drive any man mad.

It clawed at his insides, rattled his ribcage, and nearly tore a hole through his stomach. Acid churned in his throat, and Rhaegor swore he'd nearly toppled over one too many times to count. How did a wolf hunt, if the man inside had only adorned a simple bow in his previous life? Instinct drove him further inland, mouthwatering scents of warm prey dancing from fern to stone, through creeks and over hills. He'd paused to idly scratch and dig at the entrance of a burrow, obsidian claws ripping at dirt and roots, but the rabbits inside did not budge, probably disappearing into their multitude of tunnels below.

Fuck this, He hissed, a flat paw slamming against compacted and torn earth angrily. Dirt clung to the undersides of his nails, and with his head hung between thickly muscled shoulders he abandoned the burrow, retreating further inland for a chance at something better.

It was hours later when the male stumbled upon an unmistakable scent: days-old flesh and blood, the smell of an old corpse picked to bone by scavengers. His scarred muzzle wrinkled at the pitiful sight of food that lay before him, a meal fit for a king, he thought crudely. At least someone's fortune had become his saving grace, and begrudgingly he tore into what little meat clung to the bones. Dry, stringy meat filled his mouth, swallowed after much deliberation. A starving man could not afford to be picky.

Whether he hurled this meal up later or not, it would serve as temporary fuel to his fortress, kindling for a dwindling flame.

Corvids cawed from branches overhead, obsidian feathers ruffled as Rhaegor devoured as much of the kill as he could, ignorant of his surroundings as he pitifully scavenged. What a man he had become, once served the prized game and strongest ale, reduced to this lowly form, ripping sour meat from broken bones.

Only when his stomach churned sickly did he stop, swallowing a mouthful of bile as he turned, stepping back into shadows as he sank onto heavy haunches. His meal hung heavily in his stomach, but a man of his size and stature was bound to need more food. It seemed that since waking up, all he ever did was need. Water, food, hell, the gods had even given him a new body, he just needed to learn how to use it.

With a disgruntled puff of hot breath, he slipped from upright to down, cool earth pressing against his belly and ribs. Had he not just awoken from what felt like an eternal rest, his mind could have slipped into darkness there and then, yet molten gold eyes lingered open, scanning the edges of his vision for anything.

The woodlands remained silent, save for his quiet breaths and the sound of wind through branches.

Who am I, but a sword?

Thu, 05 Nov 2026 10:39:54 -0500

Thunderous clouds rolled across the sky, dark blues, soot, and inklings of silver sunlight clawed through the darkened horizon. Cloud tendrils coiled like angry wisps of smoke, a war between grays and blacks, storm clouds so dark they collided like crashing waves. The first growls of thunder echoed in the distance, and Rhaegor could only steer away. Two nights upon Mythris had given the man little insight, especially into this new body of flesh and extra limbs, now four legs instead of two, and a mouth of pearly fangs. His chest ached, not with feeling but with pain, a piercing strike that had once been his end.

What were once memories of bloodshed and war had reduced themselves to ugly, gnarled scars littered across his frame, gashes through sable and ebony furs that cut a stark line through his coarse coat. Mangled limbs, a haunted face with a muzzle sliced clean; how the man wished for a mirror to reveal his true self.

Worn hands had given way to broad paws, and no longer was a sword slung from his hip.

Rhaegor stalked through the undergrowth, ignorant of the brambles that tugged at his belly fur and branches beneath his paws; he strode through unfamiliar forestry, for once without a mission to dedicate himself to. A sense of freedom he'd never once sought. A former life of heavy iron armour, now shoved to the depths of his mind as he became accustomed to this, to this wolfish body and mind, to new senses and feelings, to new desires. A man without his sword or shield, raw and real and faced with an inescapable truth.

He was dead.

At least in another life, another time where he'd been another man. Perhaps it was a cruel twist of fate, a punishment for former actions gone unjust, or a curse from those he'd slain; but for whatever reason, life continued.

And with life came responsibility. Hunger, thirst, familiar feelings that demanded to be soothed. Rhaegor broke the forestry, coming to rushing waters dappled with smooth-bellied stones and sulking reeds. Gnarled trunks bordered the small ravine-like clearing, descending rocky ledges to protrude from the earth like broken ribs from flesh. The male picked his way to the water's edge in swift movements, paws sending earth scattering beneath his force. Ebony met blue, and his head dipped between broad shoulders to lap up mouthful after mouthful of clear water, soothing the hoarseness of his throat.

He'd never been the type of man who simply knew what to do, a peasant of instruction in a past life. Superiors had always forged his path; Rhaegor simply liberated it.

Shoulders hunched, muscles tight, Rhaegor stood rigid in his footsteps as the sounds of whistling winds and songbirds flooded his ears. No carriage wheels crunching on cobblestone, no ale mugs slamming against oak tables, only wilderness and himself.

to all things housed in her silence

Tue, 03 Nov 2026 12:47:09 -0500

The afternoon had brought with it a rather dreary sort of weather, though Nimue had never considered the rain to be an entirely unpleasant thing.

Autumn had settled comfortably over Velaris, dressing the mountainside in shades of amber, copper, and fading gold. What had once been a lush tapestry of summer greens had gradually surrendered to the changing seasons, and the trees that gathered along the mountain's base had begun shedding their leaves with every passing breeze. Some fluttered lazily toward the earth, while others clung stubbornly to their branches, unwilling, it seemed, to relinquish the last remnants of warmer days.

Nimue could hardly blame them.

There was something terribly bittersweet about autumn. It was a season of goodbyes, of things growing old and weary before surrendering themselves to the earth. Yet she had always found a peculiar beauty in such things. After all, death was not always an ending. Sometimes it was simply the beginning of something else.

And what a lovely thought that was.

The little silver woman had wandered down from the higher reaches of Velaris earlier that morning, following the winding mountain paths until the rocky slopes gave way to the softer, leaf-strewn earth at its base. She had intended to gather a few things before the coming winter made such excursions difficult. Fallen seeds, perhaps, or whatever hardy herbs still remained among the undergrowth. There were always little treasures to be found if one possessed the patience to look.

Unfortunately, the weather had other intentions.

A light drizzle had begun shortly after midday, gathering upon her silvery coat in tiny droplets that clung to her whiskers and eyelashes. The clouds hung low over the mountain, obscuring its distant peaks beneath a pale curtain of mist, and a cool breeze occasionally stirred the fallen leaves around her paws.

Nimue did not particularly mind.

She had paused beside a little collection of mushrooms growing from the decaying remains of an old tree, studying them with the quiet fascination of someone who had discovered something rather extraordinary. One delicate paw reached forward to brush a damp leaf aside, revealing another little mushroom nestled beneath it.

Oh, how sweet.

A pleased hum escaped her as she leaned closer, her nose twitching with curiosity. She was careful not to disturb their little home, however, and after a moment of admiration, she withdrew her paw and continued along the path.

All our times have come

Mon, 02 Nov 2026 19:14:03 -0500

The Autumn winds brought more than just a seasonal chill along the furs of Percy's skin that morning, and he could sense it's notes along the twitching buds of his nose. A savory musk that bore his heart alive and made his limbs trail towards the origin with egarness — a deer. A herd of them.

He made his way over a tree lined hill, over a pasture where he stared down the back of a buck's head. The cervid's attention was too fixated on his herd of doe and fawn to see the wolf that loomed off in the distance, sizing up his chances to get a meal. Egar as Percy was to claim this hunt as his, he was not impulsive — ecspecially not on his lonesome. He needed to wait for the right moment — perhaps he could sneak around the corner and snatch an unsuspecting fawn that wandered too far from it's fray.

For now, all the hunter could do was lie in wait for the right moment — and his citrine gaze cut through the field patiently for just that.…

I am the moss king, here in your house

Mon, 02 Nov 2026 12:57:10 -0500

backdated for oct 31st

The veil was so thin, so fragile, so....wrong?

Something was wrong, at least.

The storm that had been growing in the morning continued through the afternoon, the night, the rain pounding down as if it would wash away the packs that had come before so that Jakten may claim it wholly and completely.

One thing the storm couldn't erase though, was the marks high up on the trees. The claw marks of felines past would stay in the bones of the woods for decades, the bark would be shaped along the grooves for centuries. Provided no fire takes it down, at least

That was one thing Jakten couldn't erase, the other?

The dead, the buried.

The ghosts.

One particular ghost, tonight at least.

A pale figure, cloaked in a blood red mane, stalked the forest tonight. The lion of Rome, the Gilded Empire, Sem'ya, Seiiki.

The Executioner, The Sentinel, The Guardian.

He walked the trails....as if nothing was wrong, following his old paths as if he never died in the first place, as if he wasn't walking a whole new set of paths just up the mountain right this moment.

Carnifex made no sounds as he did his ghostly patrol, not like he ever did when he was alive anyway thanks to Requiem's training, but his scent drifted through the trees in a way that it shouldn't in the rain.

Every storm runs, runs out of rain

Sat, 31 Oct 2026 18:19:40 -0400

Some small part of Saga felt better, mentally. Jaxxon was once again by her side, and while the trust between them would perhaps take as much time to heal as it had taken to fester, things felt… upbeat. He had given her all she asked for to move forward in their marriage, and while the looming worries over her coming litter still plagued the Fox woman, Saga was steeped in a confidence that had never been afforded her before. She had never thought herself capable of leadership, but she couldn't be half as bad as the bloodthirsty butcher had been, right? What mattered was finally feeling like she was her mates equal, and she had a say over her own life and that of her children; never again would she barter and beg and have to prove the worth or standing of the Fox family.
Some few were unhappy with their move, but it mattered little to Saga. Ezra and Neith more so than those who had never given the time of day to understand her before, but she hoped they too would come to understand it was more than fear that uprooted Jakten from Mistveil and kept their location veiled for the time being. That much of it was to protect the babes growing beneath her heart than anything else, but without throwing her husband under the bus, it wasn't like she could tell people she couldn't look at that territory another fucking day without remembering the life she'd lived there.
The life of some… Pet, a maid, an outsider looking in. Some idiot that had sat around and watched her mate slut around the pack and outside of it.
They'd lost a scant few, but this bothered Saga even less. Polly had pitched her fit and remained to claim what she said was her birthright, and the silver matriarch was glad to be rid of Jaxxon's savage daughter (and HER asshole daughter that called Saga fat upon meeting her and asked if the hole in her face could hold water.). She'd been less rude since Saga had been promoted from a slave, but the Fox was sure the girl was more Joxer than Jaxxon. Untrustworthy, a snake hiding in the grass ready to strike even when she offered some approximation of nice. It gave Saga no small amount of satisfaction to leave her behind with no word on how to find them again, only promises to visit once they'd settled and things had calmed. Those who stayed with her were ultimately dead to Saga as well, but they meant so little she couldn't recall their names or who, even, had stayed. Part of her wished more had; that only those she gave a shit about like her own family, Melanthe and Ezra and their families, had followed Jakten. Alas, Saga couldn't expect a perfect life, and the more capable bodies around them the better. Those who had come along were those she wanted to put her energy towards anyway.
What did worry Saga was her two wayward sonsabitches out there wandering about, no doubt searching for her. Jaxxon said Mag and Zeek both raised a fuss, and at some point after he'd come to get her they must have put their two half brain cells together to make a whole thought to escape the attention of their packmates. As much as she would prefer them home, Saga knew they were yearlings now and had every right and skill they needed to go where they pleased! But now she'd have to find someone to go looking for them, and those who were along for the journey were either tending children or otherwise unavailable. Perhaps Abaddon and Blossom? Everyone was needed here to help settle new borders and explore the new territory, she thought sourly. The kids would have to wander about a bit longer and if they were lucky, come sniffing this way. If they caught the scent of even one of their packmates this far from home, would they investigate?

A heavy sigh left Saga. Her yearlings weren't the only ones who now had no idea where Jakten was, and that was the bitch of it all... but hopefully they'd think to stick around Mistveil for someone to come back and visit there, if nothing else.

Saga was downright miserable, physically. Her little frame was wide with whelps, stomach stretched uncomfortably far, and she shifted on her paws as a wave of soreness seemed to seep across her back; she knew the time had to be near because her milk had come in, but no matter how hard she looked nowhere was suitable for a den. Well -- suitable to her, not right now. The urge to nest was fierce, but it was also meticulous. The new den needed to be perfect! It had to be a big enough space for her and to raise their newest litter, and to allow their older children to lounge with them occasionally.... but it had to be more than one. It wasn't just her she was searching for, really.
Laurel never had been the same, not since Joxer had shaken the courage right out of her baby girl so terribly that some days Saga wondered if she shouldn't start offering her daughter some sort of herb to calm her down, like lavender. She clung to her family and, most particularly, Saga with a desperation that hurt the mothers soul; Jaxxon wanted their own private space, but she wouldn't suffer her first babies to believe they were being kicked out or replaced. They'd find somewhere where it was more of a.... get your own room kind of situation! A space in which one raised voice was enough to summon Mother to ones side.

She'd not taken any visitors besides Jaxxon and her kids since melting into Ichorwood, and she was keen on finding a den in which she could keep isolating herself -- at least for a few weeks, till the pups came and everything felt.... normal again.

The silver women had wandered all the way to the other side of the red forest and, where cliff crumbled away, picked carefully down to the beach below. It wasn't the golden stretch as far as the eye could see Saga had always imagined, but it was, in fact, the beach! The ocean knocked upon their doorstep, seashells and driftwood dotted the shore, the sand squished between her toes, and everything felt.... quiet, down here. The lapping, rushing roar of the waves drowned out all else, and it was a comfort the Fox didn't know she needed.

She didn't notice that she'd started to tremble, gently. Her steps were steady, and the pains starting to fire up her waist were so dull compared to the last moons of horror and hunger that she didn't seem to notice those, either. Saga walked most of the beach and headed back up the cliff without batting an eye or recognizing --yet again-- the signs of labor in herself. Frankly, all that she noticed was that one of her legs was wet with milk; when Joxer tore into her stomach one of her teats had been cleaved right off, but that didn't stop the gland from producing some small amount of liquid and holding just enough to be annoying, like now.
It was gods-damned embarrassing, and Saga was fortified in her belief that it was best if few saw her in these most early days when she was at her most vulnerable.

Halfway up the cliff face, Saga paused to catch her breath, pants heaving her swollen sides and shifting her ribs beneath her still-skinny frame.

A sharp pain stabbed her in the belly, and she finally realized it might've been time to hurry up and just... find a fucking hole. Panic rippled through Saga with the first contraction, and she yelped out an urgent summons before calling her husbands name directly: Jaxxon!

She huddled there, stuck in the gentlest way of the term, unsure if she should go back down to the beach or up to the top where the forest would swallow her back up. The wind was picking up, and Saga saw the clouds rolling in over the lightening sky as twilight gripped the land; soon, the dawn would blaze over their new home and set the forest ablaze in firey tones.
She would be painting the earth crimson, she thought as the first droplets began to splatter against the stones, against her back.

✦ Old Bones ✦

Sat, 31 Oct 2026 13:28:36 -0400

Seven

✦ Dreaded Omen

Motionless as a corpse, blackened rain-soaked fur seeping into the ground like rotten waterlogged roots. A puddle of mud pooled beneath their lithe frame, raking claw marks gash the surrounding earth, parted by a track in the slurry as if something had been dragged through it. At its origin, a caved in hole decorated in discarded stones and pale flecks of bone that jut out like teeth from the dirt. A story painted in the mud, a struggle, a desperate attempt at burrowing into the earth, or out of it; debris clung under Seven's nails and painted his body in cold, wet sludge.

For a moment, their stillness was deafening, no whistling of air escaping a hollow heaving chest, no groan of aches or hisses of wounds. Then... A gasp. A sputter. A wretched breath pulled in as though it was unwelcome. They lay there in the depths of night in a clearing at the base of Moonpeak Spire, catching their quivering breath as the chill carried on the rain and wind speared through their flesh, a shuddering shiver rippling across their pelt.

Catching their breath, their maw wrenched open and flashed muddy fangs in the moonlight, he wanted to call out for help, he tried, but his breath hitched in his chest and all he could muster was a whimper. His dark, inky eyes strained upward in a desperate search for the moon behind the darkening clouds, squinting and squeezing shut at rain splashed right against his pupils. He tried again to speak, but once more, no words, only a deep and guttural sob drooled out of their throat as his body curled even tighter in a fetal coil. His muddied paws squeezed against his chest, his tail coiled around his thigh, there was no time to make sense of where he was, no capacity to understand his arrival to this strange world, and a gaping void in his mind where the memory of events leading up to this scene once lay.

Lightning flashes, the sky flickering alight in fluorescent blue that kisses the contours of his melting body against the earth that threatened to swallow him whole.

lightning crashes.

Sat, 31 Oct 2026 09:14:27 -0400

Maybe this was a sign of her capabilities; a fate sealed. What else could the loss of so many children mean? First, her beloved Polaris. Now, her four little stars gone so soon. Her chest ached with the weight of their absence, each breath but a sting as though Vivian's very lungs thought her culpable and undeserving.

Were they wrong though? It had to be something wrong with her for this failure to keep finding her. Failure, yes. This is what it is. Instinct has more than once willed her to simply bed down, to wait, to sleep until days begun to blur together into an endless haunt... but moving meant she thought less, and the less she thought the less she missed what she no longer had. Is that selfish? She feels selfish.

Vivian searches for somewhere to settle for the night -- a small cave, some fox's den -- but despite her willingness to settle for just about anything, she instead finds herself awkwardly slinking about the base of a mountain seemingly intent to ward her away from pressing farther.

Too bad for it, very little can stand between her and a nap.