Hunted | Jenmae

[Seren]

Location: The Jungles, Jamoura​

Tag: [member="Jenmae Ophiro"]​

The arrow as beginning to take its toll.

Seren was content to leave his sister and the life she had built well enough alone. When he and the so-called Nightmother had a confrontation about the Fortressa, he had walked out of more than just her immediate presence. In the mind of the Young Wolf, he had departed out of her life. For good. Katrine could lay with whomever she chose and continue to replace him with whoever she chose. That was her - albeit misguided - decision. However, it was not long until Seren came to realize…she was not done with him. He had slammed shut the door of their relationship. He no longer considered that woman his sibling. Yet she refused to let go.

And those who followed after her were eager to do her bidding.

Nightmother was a role which had roots as deep as the forest surrounding the Young Wolf. It was a title, derived from Dathomir itself, and denoted leadership over the Southern Systems' culture of Witches. Some simply referred to their collective midst as "the witches of Ryloth" despite the fact that their practices had spread through Confederate space quite considerably. These days, Mandragora was the more common term and was the one that the Witches used to refer to themselves. For many months now, the Nightmother had disappeared from the waking world. According to rumor, she dove into the Spiritual Realm searching for something and left the Mandragora bereft of tangible leadership.

Some were content with assimilating into the Confederacy's Mandragora-exclusive branch of the Knights Obsidian. They opted to make themselves useful in the wake of the Nightmother. Yet others...others became fanatic. They decided that, if they followed the orders of the Nightmother to the letter, then maybe she would return to them. It was a ploy to entice their leader into coming back to them. Seren wished he could talk sense into them - to make them see that Katrine was a fallible, and terrible human being. But these zealots were relentless in their goal. So relentless that Katrine's desire to have her brother back translated into a hunt by this wretched minority.

They trailed him across the stars. Hunting him day and night until they cornered him on Jamoura, a forested moon. At a glance, the planet was no different than Dathomir itself - save for the fact that the humidity was far greater. Seren, however, did not have much time to savor the differences between the worlds - for he was on the run. An arrow was lodged within his thigh and had ripped clean through his leg. If not for the totality of his Forceborn prowess being devoted to nulling the pain, he would have been a goner. Those who trailed him were very convincing in their taunts from behind. They offered bacta and other medical attention, if only he would submit. All the Nightmother wished was to see her brother again, was that such a hard price to pay for healing?

Seren, ultimately, decided to say kark it. He was a kark mothering prince and he would be damned if those zealots made a mockery of him. The Young Wolf found a solid tree to brace himself against and gripped his tomahawk tightly. If he was to walk away from this victorious, sooner or later, he would have to say goodbye to nullifying his agony. But he would wait to do that until he had the Witches in sight. In the meantime, he had a taunt of his own. With arms held open wide, he bellowed into the woods, roaring so loudly that the avians above took flight.

"YOU CAN'T KILL ME!​

"I AM SEREN THE WOLF - I'LL KILL YOU!"​

 

[Jenmae Ophiro]

Location: The Jungles, Jamoura
Tags: [member="Seren"]
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Few things in the galaxy brought her more peace than spending time alone among the trees. They didn't need to be these specific trees, but these weren't bad trees by any means. The soft breeze and humid air made everything all the better, the soft creaking and groaning of the branches mixing with the constant shivering of the leaves against one another... It was serene and wonderful. Not that the face of the wisp of a woman that wandered through them would be any indication.

Jenmae had wrapped herself in a rich dark red velvet cloak for this particular trip, the wide hood that covered most of her face from sight the perfect accessory. Only the very ends of her stark white hair fluttered about her shoulders as she walked, giving a hint at the ghostly apparition that resided under the fabric. She would have been an interesting figure to stumble across, had she not known she'd be alone in the woods that evening. She'd been to Jamoura before to collect items not dissimilar from the ones she was there to collect that evening... Never once has she come across another soul. It seemed that fate had another plan for her, however.

The screamed proclamation that rang through the trees nearly made her start, I am Seren the wolf - I'll kill you! How terribly mellow dramatic. She took a moment to orient herself, listening as that voice echoed off the trees and died in the soft rustling of the leaves above. She then turned towards the North and began to walk along the forest floor, her cloak whispering softly as it pooled and bounced around her ankles. It didn't take her long to begin to hear other shouted voices, and a small frown began to form at the edges of her mouth. More people... A collection of strangers...

She came a few steps further towards that shouting voice and caught sight of a young man, brandishing a hand axe and shouting to the skies. What a fascinating creature... Jenmae didn't waste time, striding free of the trees so that she'd be visible to the boy, and standing well enough away as to not catch the axe should he have decided to throw it.

"Dear boy... Your screams could wake the dead and it appears that you've got an arrow in your leg... Would you like some help?" Her voice was calm and devoid of inflection as she spoke to him, a lilting accent making her words seem moderately soothing, even if her presence and her distance did not. She made no move to come closer to the man, the shape of her still hidden beneath the gently billowing fabric of the cloak. She could hear the sounds of approaching voices but did her best to keep any worry from her face, not that he'd be able to see much of it hidden under the cloak either.

 

[Seren]

Location: The Jungles, Jamoura​

Tag: [member="Jenmae Ophiro"]​

There was only one thing working in the Young Wolf's favor.

At least, so he thought. The one common thread which ran between Seren and the Nightmother was the Lupine blood running hot through their veins. It was this particular plethora of genes which afforded those of the Van-Derveld line the ability to shift into baser reflections of nature. Perhaps this was the reason why they found themselves walking so close to the Spirits and Dathomiri culture, for walking apace with the natural order of things was vital to understanding the ethereal. If time and the circumstances were different, Seren might have actually enjoyed the forests that were similar to Dathomir. He might have been able to, humidity aside, reminisce about times past and wander aimlessly throughout the arbor. However, those traits which characterized his very being had him on high aleart.

And most particularly, a wild assortment of scents made themselves manifest to his nostrils. The Young Wolf, by nature, had a vastly more sensitive sense than the average Human. Enough so that he was able to smell the blood-seeped shaft which had ripped through the meat of his thigh. Beyond the pungent stench of oak and iron, he could make out the rapidly approaching scents of those who pursued him. Herbs was the best thing that he could compare the cacophony to. Nothing outside of the ordinary for the Nightmother's faithful. It was simply due to the fact that they carried a distinct odor, compared to his wound and their surroundings, that he was able to evade them this long.

Yet his ragged breaths now came through his mouth. And his anguished roar caused him to rely upon his mouth and lungs over his nostrils - if only for a handful of moments. These were enough that he missed the muted scent of lilac in the air: a novice mistake. If he were thinking, he would have thought it to be more than a breeze carrying the aroma of distant buds across the arbor. But he wasn't. He was a mongrel pressed into a corner. And a wounded one at that. His hands, shaking, gripped the length of his weapon as rapid thoughts ran through his mind. He wished he could change. Wished he could drop down to all fours and rush through the arbor was a true Wolf. He might have been able to put more distance between he and his pursuers then.

But he made the mistake of coming after his sibling. What a fool he was.

Her voice nearly made him leap - a fact which caused fresh agony to run through his wound. Seren growled in pain, leaning the majority of weight on his good leg as to provide some temporary semblance of relief to himself. Stinging eyes looked upon the woman who found her - and by all accounts she looked the part of the Witches who were hot on his trail. However, the only thing that kept his tomahawk from being hurled at her skull was the sheer surprise plastered upon his expression. How did she sneak up on him? His mind couldn't fathom. He was better than this. Or so he thought. But the others…he inhaled a breath through his nostrils. They were far behind.

He wanted to fight. He wanted to stand his ground and spit in the eye of the Nightmother for what she had done. He wanted to bare his fangs at the Witch who managed to get close. But the needs of the body roared louder than he ever could. As he parted his lips to speak, black began to flood the edges of his vision. Blood was pouring out of his wound - so much so that there were only a few outcomes left. Die standing. Die fighting. Or…"Damn it…" he said, his tone alive with lamentation. The Young Wolf's form began to slump ever so slightly against the tree, his balance being challenged with each second. "I...Yes. I give. Help."

 

[Jenmae Ophiro]

Location: The Jungles, Jamoura
Tag: [member="Seren"]

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She watched with a dispassionate and cool gaze as the young man before her struggled. His ragged breathing and the stain of fresh blood that was slowly seeping down past the knee of his pants suggested that he'd exerted himself a great deal, to now be near collapse in the middle of these woods. As he thought over her offer, every ounce of that anguish painted across his pained face, she took the opportunity to step closer to him. It was easy to tell why it was that she'd been able to sneak up as she strode closer, the soft whisper of the cloak around her feet muffling her steps to near silence. She was the embodiment of the specter that she so resembled, in many ways.

He was muttering his hurried acceptance of her offer as she came upon him, that shadowed face beneath the hood dimly visible as she gave him a once over. She didn't bother to provide him with any additional insight as she carefully knelt before him, the cloak pooling against the hard-packed earth. From beneath the expanse of red velvet came two hands, both of them starkly pale against the spill of red fabric. Each willowy finger was tipped with a nail that looked like the tip of a dagger, milky as the fingers they adorned, though oddly threatening just in their presence on her hands. Those hands moved forward and gently pressed against his thigh on either side of the arrow.

That hooded face turned upwards, the evening's light spilling passed the shadows that it cast to throw her face into view. Every inch was sharp angles and pale flesh, the only piece not reflecting the light were two dark eyes rimmed with equally dark lashes, both emotionless but searching his face as she gently applied pressure on either side of the wound. The pressure caused a spill of fresh blood to ooze from the wound, and because of the proximity of her hands, it covered those milky white palms of hers in the deep crimson that he'd so kindly offered up.

Her gaze dipped down once more as she let his leg go, turning her hands towards herself as the first hint of a smile painted her lips. The blood was cooling quickly as it slowly left trails down from her palms to her forearms - but she took a moment to marvel at it none the less. So infrequently did she get the opportunity to actually bathe herself in blood... It was a wondrous feeling. However, she could hear the sound of those beckoning voices growing ever closer, begging the boy to stop, promising him aide... She kept her hands held before her as she lifted herself to her feet once more and turned from the agonized man towards those voices.

She took a few steps forward and glanced around the trees that made the small grove he'd chosen for his last stand. It would do. She gently pressed her palms together and closed her eyes, starting to rub them slowly back and forth before she increased the speed, muttering quietly under her breath and pulling at the Force she could feel all around them. When her eyes opened once more, the white that surrounded her irises and set them in such brilliant relief had been swallowed by all that darkness, her hands beginning to glow with an angry red heat as she rubbed them all the faster. She took another single step forward and braced herself as she separated her palms, a roaring red flame bursting in the space she'd created. She turned her hands outward and two massive jets of flame burst forth, engulfing first one tree and then the next, and then the next.

In a matter of moments, there was a wall of flame that ate at the forest between the two of them and the approaching band of witches. The force with which she'd thrust the flames forward also set them moving further into the trees, heading straight for whomever it was that pursued the young man. With that taken care of she turned slowly back to him, glancing down at her hands. The twin palms of cool white flesh were now scorched, the blood still on her forearms, but having burned off with the first few layers of her skin from her palms and fingers. She carefully stowed the hands back under her cloak as she approached him once more.

"That should provide you with some time... What would you like to do about this arrow?" She motioned with her chin from within the hood, that same lilting accent carrying a voice that was free from the pain she was likely feeling to his ears.

 

[Seren]

Location: The Jungles, Jamoura​

Tag: [member="Jenmae Ophiro"]​

To this, he was no stranger...

Though beleaguered by the burden of fatigue, his frosted gaze perceived the apparition. Though the ocean of agony which had claimed his extremity allowed him to miss her coming, she had entered into his sight. And now, with the last bastion of his senses focused squarely upon her, Seren silently resolved not to let his guard down again. It was a seemingly fruitless effort, as the loss of his lifeblood upon the brush-covered earth was a perpetual reality. With each moment, more crimson dripped down the slick length of wood that had ripped clean through his flesh. With every second, red pooled upon the obsidian arrowhead, only to succumb to the touch of gravity on the way down to the ground. This invisible law of nature was now one of the mightiest adversaries that the Young Wolf had to face this day. For in his weary state, his body wanted nothing more than to fall into its sweet embrace.

He could feel his strength ebbing away. No matter how stubborn he was...no matter how much ferocity burned upon his fangs, he was but a wounded mongrel in that moment. Completely at the mercy of the pallid spectre before his gaze. When he succumbed to the reality of his weakness, the cloaked woman did not offer conventional assistance. There was no technology riven from underneath the cloak. Nor, for that matter, were any remedies native to their common heritage. For but a millisecond, Seren deluded himself into believing that the Talons which revealed themselves to the dying light of the day were his ally. He thought that, perhaps, she reached out in order to provide him some semblance of relief from the agony.

He was wrong. Dead wrong.

If it were not for his sorry state of being, the Young Wolf would have uttered a pronounced cry of opposition. To simply, gingerly, graze his thigh with his arm whilst hobbling away from his pursuers was enough to illicit utter agony. Thus, when the pallid fingers and their vicious nails coiled around his thigh, the darkness intensified. For several seconds, he could scarcely make out the woman's form before him - as his vision had nearly been consumed in its entirely by the sweet embrace of slumber. Oh how much his body cried out in opposition as she squeezed. Oh how his leg trembled underneath the relentless grasp of her hands. Yet there was purpose to the apparition's assault upon his extremity. She had made him an offer...and in her own, wicked way, she was keeping it.

When at last she released her hold upon him, Seren felt his lungs release a pent up breath that he did not recall sucking in. Heavily, he sucked in air and near panted as the woman swept away from her. There was a terrifying grace to the way she moved. The way her cloak billowed out over the brush as she stepped away from the wounded Van-Derveld...was reminiscent of smoke sweeping over a blighted earth. Slow, yet with an intensity that could rattle the soul. For where there was smoke, there was fire. And where there was this woman, there was certainly Hell to follow. The Young Wolf could do nothing but watch as the Dark Side began to fall mightily upon her shoulders. The sacrifice of blood upon her palms was more than enough to coax the elusive entity into existence. In tandem with this, ancient lyrics began to slither forth from primrose lips. Seren recognized this as an incantation, but he was too far gone to make out the components of the spell she wove.

But the language she spoke was one that he understood. Intimately. As her blood soaked hands lurched forward, his greatest ally exploded forth. Hell roared forth from the sacrifice of his blood, sentencing the thriving wood to a premature end. She wielded the inferno with a care and precision that clashed with the very nature of flame. Wanton destruction was not the goal of her assault against nature, but a controlled inferno directed at those who pursued the one she offered to aid. By the might of her magick, the arbor before them was lit ablaze - yet, for the moment, they were in no danger. She had bought Seren precious time. He was in her debt. When she returned to him, despite the agony that her tactic had caused him...his eyes were alive with gratitude. And just a spark of admiration.

His home was in the flame. And by seeing the arbor ignited, Seren found the grit to force himself upright. The wintery inquiry which met his ears was met with a response befitting a bearer of fire. With teeth pressed against one another to weather the pain, he offered the woman a nod before saying. "Burn it. Remove the arrow and sear it closed…please." There was not much more that he could do than offer the solution...and brace himself for Hell to be unleashed on his earth.

 

[Jenmae Ophiro]

Location: The Jungles, Jamoura
Tag: [member="Seren"]

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[SIZE=10.5pt][/SIZE]​

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His pleas were like a melody in her ears as she watched the young wolf writhe, struggling back to his feet. The witch's little trick had required that precious red fluid that stained his thigh - but it appeared that the pressure she'd applied to get a fresh supply had done a bit more damage than perhaps he'd anticipated when he'd agreed to give it up... Not that she'd clearly indicated what she'd ask in return for her assistance. She regarded him for several long, silent moments as he instructed her to remove the arrow and sear the wound closed. So be it.

"You may want to sit for this, little one." Her voice was almost kind as she said it, but nothing about the predatory way she approached him suggested that it was anything over and above her tone. She waited patiently for him to either sit or not, but acted regardless, lowering herself once more to be at a level with the shaft of the arrow that protruded from his thigh. It was several more long moments of silence as she turned her head this way and that, trying to sort out which direction the arrowhead was sitting at [SIZE=10.5pt]inside[/SIZE] of his thigh. Using the tissue damage around the wound to sort it out, she lifted one of her injured hands to very gingerly wrapping it around the base of the arrow where it was sunk into his flesh.

“Deep breath in and hold – if you scream we’ll be easier to find.” She spared him a quick glance with those pitch coloured eyes before she lowered them to her task, pressing the scorched palm of her other hand against his thigh, adjacent to the shaft and yanking hard. The arrow came cleanly out, or at least as cleanly as it could. The torn and bloodied flesh didn’t present much resistance as the head came clear, but the wound gushed a fresh spurt of blood, which is exactly what she needed.

The witch tossed the arrow to the side and while one hand still braced the side of his leg, the now empty hand lifted to press her thumb firmly both onto and slightly into the wound. She breathed out a soft string of words in that same rough sounding language, much quieter than earlier, nearly a whisper as her thumb began to glow red hot, as though liquid metal flowed just below her skin. The pain would be immense – she knew this because it was so for herself… Her face didn’t betray it though, even when the scent of burning flesh bubbled up from the quickly cauterizing hole in the boy’s leg, coupled with her own thumb beginning to near bubble from the heat.

As she felt the flesh begin to harden under her finger she carefully pulled the finger away, the glow beginning to die in slow degrees as she inspected her work. It appeared to have done the trick... But she assumed her charge would likely be in poor shape.

 

[Seren]

Location: The Jungles, Jamoura​

Tag: [member="Jenmae Ophiro"]​

This one...was no servant of the Nightmother.

Though midnight threatened to claim the edges of his vision, the young Wolf refused to succumb to the cold embrace. The sacrifice of his life blood had bought them time - at the expense of the arbor before them. To say the very least, the pallid woman who had descended upon Seren was mighty in her power. There were few among the Dathomiri who could ignite fully vibrant trees with their first of their efforts; and yet this woman unleashed a literal Hell without the breaking of a sweat. Her motions seemed...almost effortless. Perhaps it was the sheer absence of blood that was coloring Seren's view...but the pale one was more spectre than mortal. But. For the time being...she was all that stood between the young Wolf and being dragged back to his sibling.

Dragged, painfully, back to where they hoped she would return.

After the request fell from his lips as a raspy assortment of words, the pallid woman gave him a request. It was for his own benefit, and uttered with an edge of softness which coaxed Seren out of his defensive tension. Though it was agony in of itself to descend upon the brush, he did so at her behest, culminating with his posterior thudding unceremoniously at the base of the tree. He winced, but there was no resistance coming out of Seren this day. In silence, he watched as the woman set about inspecting the wound. Her gaze examined the entry and exit points, noting just how brutally the arrowhead had ripped through his flesh. And, once satisfied, she gave him yet another direction. He was no stranger to setting his jaw.

In times long since past, he did so to rob his enemies of their satisfaction. To jeer in the face of his father's rampages and not give that mad bastard the glee he so sought. He knew how to clench his teeth in such a way that the pain would never escape. Though it might cost him his consciousness in this case, he would do his damndest to ride out the inferno she would unleash upon his flesh. And unleash it she did. At first, she ripped the arrow free, causing a fresh wellspring of his blood to splash out onto her waiting flesh. Then, her thumb was the dam against the flood of his life. Crudely, she invaded him and uttered yet another string of ancient lyrics. The young wolf inhaled and held his breath just as the fire slithered through his wound, searing shut the ravaged flesh and causing the darkness in his vision to nearly seize victory.

Seren reared his head back in response to the agony. His body shook. His good leg trembled and spasmed as the pallid one did her work. And yet, in the name of his own preservation, he did not utter a sound. It was not until the smell of fire subsided that Seren gasped down breaths of air as he tried to come to grips with the pain. His instincts demanded that he clutch the wound pointlessly - but he settled for balling his hands into fists and riding out the newfound Hell. Between deep inhalations, his azure gaze fell upon the woman who had gone out of her way to bring him some semblance of safety. She protected him. She "healed" him. She…the scent of burning flesh invaded his nostrils. He had been a practitioner of Fire long enough to know how he smelled when lit ablaze...but this pungent smell was different. It carried a foreign edge that he had never sniffed before. And though his eyes watered from the pain, he was barely aware enough to realize that the pallid woman did not perform this act scot free.

"Why?" he wheezed, settling his embattled gaze upon her. "You...You're not like them. They never hurt themselves." He tried to force himself upright and failed miserably, ultimately settling into place against the tree. "But you...burnt yourself for me. I don't even know your name." A ragged chuckle escaped him as he jutted a thumb weakly at himself. "Seren." His words were punctuated by heavy pants and the occasional cough.

"If I get outta this...I owe you my life."

Little did he know, his words were a deal with the Devil's Mistress.

 

[Jenmae Ophiro]

Location: The Jungles, Jamoura
Tag: [member="Seren"]​

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The girl carefully raised hands that were a good deal worse for wear now than they had been minutes before and gripped the edges of the massive hood that obscured her head and face from view. As those fingers closed fully around the fabric, should he be paying attention, he'd see the skin of her fingers crack and begin to seep blood themselves; the burnt flesh obviously not in the best of shape. She pushed the hood back in one smooth motion as she also sank to sit on the hard ground before the young wolf. Though her hands were a burnt, bloodied mess, her face was pristine - the pale expanse of flesh stretched smoothly across fragile appearing features - all of it accented with those eyes of hers, currently still wholly black and bottomless, her dusting of dark lashes acting as a sort shadowy haze around their edges.

Though there were no pupils, it was obvious she had eyes only for the bloodied and bruised man before her, those pits she tried to pass as eyes regarding him in a way that must have been unnerving. When she spoke her voice was as it had been before, tinged with a touch of compassion that her features did not betray, "I'm Jenmae, little one." She carefully laid those ruined hands of hers against the earth and leaned forward. As she did, the long strands of white hair that had been captured in the depths of the hood slid forward, moving to fall about the edges of her face and fluttering gently in the warm breeze that the flames kicked up.

Her right hand lifted as those ragged fingers of hers extended and she gently traced the tips of her sightly melted nails along the boy's jawline. "You don't need to worry, Seren." The way she said his name wasn't dissimilar to the way she had spoken those spells earlier - she put weight into the word that suggested perhaps it meant more to her than he'd meant it to. "I intend to get us both out of here safely. Do you think you can stand?" Her question was simple, but the implication was there that could he not, she had other options they could explore. She didn't elaborate, however, instead blinking slowly at the boy as the whites of her eyes slowly began to bleed back in at the edges of those black pools.

Her preference was that Seren would be able to assist with their escape... But should he not prove up to the task, she had an idea or two about how she could move the little wolf. Whether he'd be agreeable to the terms of his transport had yet to be seen.

 

[Seren]

Location: Jungles, Jamoura​

Tag: [member="Jenmae Ophiro"]​

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For a few moments, it was hard to focus on anything else.

If the circumstances had been just a little different, the Young Wolf might have been flabbergasted by the pallid one's gaze. The boundless depths of obsidian were indeed unnerving. Unnatural. And truly a testament to the fact that his savior was different compared to any other of the witches he had come across. However, with his latest words now punctuated by ragged breaths of air, it was hard for Seren to do anything else. With every inhalation, he was doing everything he could to get a handle on the agony that claimed his leg. The worst was over now. And as a child of Fire, he had been burned more than once before. All he had to do was breathe. All he had to do was master the freshly made patch upon his flesh and there might be some hope of survival for him yet.

What paused this internalized struggle was the sensation of warmth upon his jawline. The woman's name danced within his eardrums as her fingernails gingerly slid over his skin. Seren felt…safe for some reason. And that in of itself was a contrast to the norm. Though an inferno raged behind them with hunters hot on their trail, the Young Wolf felt...safe? It was as if, for a moment, all instinct had been muted by her touch. All sense. All care. But as soon as her nails left his skin, Seren blinked. Reality seemed to settle in like a cold slap and he grit his teeth against the pain. Could he stand? Now there was the question for the ages. Already, the pallid woman had done so much - sacrificed her own wellbeing on his behalf. Surely he could push through this. He wouldn't let himself be a burden.

He nodded, despite the protests of his body. His wounded leg moved, slowly, until his foot was planted flat upon the forest floor. The motion in of itself was excruciating, but Seren weathered it with a heavy exhale. He sucked in air through his teeth as he braced himself upon the tree, gingerly...slowly...adding weight to the leg as he hoisted himself up. Everything in him wanted to sink back down to the ground. Everything, save that nugget of stubborn he inherited from his sire. The Young Wolf did not stop until he was back on his feet - yet braced against the tree. Now, common sense dictated that he would not be able to walk around like this unaided, and he was not about to have her carry him all the way to safety. As such, he reached up and grasped one of the branches overhead before giving a solid yank.

Crick! Crack!

A decent-sized branch broke free and he impaled the earth with it. The makeshift walking stick would do enough that he could hobble. "I'll try not to slow you down." he breathed. His bright gaze fell upon the fire for a moment, before returning to the woman. "They have my ship surrounded. Are we heading to yours?" Frankly, it mattered not where they headed - as the Young Wolf would follow the White Witch wherever she led.

 

[Jenmae Ophiro]

Location: The Jungles. Jamoura​

Tag: [member="Seren"]

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Her expression didn't change in the least as the wolf struggled to his feet, leaving her kneeling in the dirt before him. Her eyes, now back to their simple brown depths, regarding him silently as he worked to gather himself the walking stick and stand free of the tree for support. All the better that she wouldn't need to expend any additional energy on the little wolf's transportation since she'd managed to wander a fair distance from her own ship while searching for the items that had brought her to Jomoura in the first place. Thinking on it now, she supposed she'd need to return later to try again... Bothersome.

Jenmae rose once Seren had proven himself able to stand, glancing once where his own eyes lingered, the sight of the massive trees engulfed so fully in flame not stirring in her the same feelings it did in him. She cared little for all of it - most especially the cost it had taken in her own flesh. She instead turned her back on it all and began to walk, keeping her pace a little less brisk to allow for the boy to keep up. "I have a ship on Jamoura, yes. It's not as close as those other women are, but we'll get there before they overtake us." Her voice had lost that tone from earlier, back to it's calm and emotionless inflection, the lilting accent more pronounced with the void of expression.

The flames at their backs were raging on, and the hot, dry wind it was kicking up set her hair to whipping about her shoulders and cheeks as they walked, though it didn't seem to bother her as it fluttered around her face. She didn't spare the boy a glance as they strode through the trees that were most likely to be engulfed in flames as the night went on... There would be a mighty cost to this wood for what she'd started, but it mattered little. She often found that the spirits were not happy with her when she did what was necessary...

Her voice came to him once more as they strode through the untouched trees, as impassive and calm as ever, though the question she asked was likely not to invoke that same lack of emotion, "So, Seren. Why is it that this coven chases you - and why have they followed you to this place?" Her head turned a touch, those dark eyes finding his as she inquired further, "Did you steal something, little one?" Though her face was blank of emotion, there was almost the hint of a mocking tone in that last question. A joke, perhaps? It was hard to say with Jenmae.

 

[Seren]

Location: Jamoura
Tag: [member="Jenmae Ophiro"]

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Seren felt…warm.

Although the abyssmal depths of the woman's gaze had faded back to a human shade, Seren did not take notice. He was simply preoccupied with the monumental task which laid before him: mere mobility. Though he had taken measures to ensure that he would not slow his mysterious savior down, the reality was that glorified hobbling would still be a grievous blow to their pace. Nonetheless, he did his absolute best to step along at a pace that would be productive to Jenmae. Simply thinking the name caused the rampant warmth bubbling within the Young Wolf to intensify; though, in his current state, he did not pay the sensation any mind. Rather, he simply chocked it up to the flames which danced in their wake, consuming the arbor between them and his pursuers.

When it came to his question regarding direction, the White Witch indeed had a ship. It was far enough a way that the trip there would be a painful journey; but close enough that Jenmae was confident that they would evade those on their trail. She had done a solid bit of work in lighting the forested world aflame, and as a result Seren had complete faith in the words she uttered. For but a moment, his fingers trembled upon the walking "stick" at the thought of how far he would have to go. But he pushed through. He owed it to the woman to see her efforts not wasted. She burnt and marred her own flesh to give him a chance to live. His life was her- the snap of his boot decimating a twig caused him to look down and then up.

By then, the accented voice of the witch graced his ears. The inflection was just different enough that his lips knew to curve into the beginnings of a smile. Yet, as he realized the content of her statement, the temporary mirth wavered. A small sigh escaped him - half a sharp exhale and half dejection from the truth. "My sister, Katrine, is the Nightmother of the Mandragora." he began, assuming that the White Witch knew what the Rylothi branch of Dathomiri culture had come to call themselves. "She disappeared and has been gone for quite some time. Some think to the realm of spirits. This coven thinks...that me - or my blood most likely - can help to bring her back."

He shook his head firmly. "Wherever she's gone, she can stay for all I care." The Young Wolf then posed a question of his own, and Jenmae would be perceptive enough to realize that it was due to his wanting to change the subject. "What about you? What brought you here? And, if you don't mind my asking, which coven do you belong to?"

 

[Jenmae Ophiro]

Location: The Jungle, Jamoura​

Tag: [member="Seren"]​

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The ethereal woman didn't seem to take much notice, or perhaps she just didn't overly care for the plight of the little wolf as they made their way through the underbrush of the moon's forests. The cloak that rested about her shoulders swayed gently with each step, from time to time whispering along the ground for only a moment, the disturbance setting dirt or dead foliage to scatter around as well. Something about her presence here seemed fitting, almost like the witch belonged among the massive trees in the looming darkness. None of the twigs or branches that snagged and scratched at the young wolf seemed to do the same to the specter; the forest itself seeming disinterested in interacting with her as she walked.

Her silent, calm demeanor changed a touch as he explained why it was that the other witches pursued the boy. She slowed her pace a touch so bring herself abreast with Seren and matched her speed to his, her eyes stared out from between the thick black lashes that lined them, betraying only a touch of the curiosity that she felt. Something about what he'd said had piqued her interest obviously, and as she spoke again that accent of hers was in full effect, "What do they think is so special about your blood that it would bring back a Nightmother?" She had been bathed in his blood nearly to her elbows, and though it was plenty powerful - and why that was she wasn't yet sure, it wasn't the sort of blood that could force someone back from the realm of spirits... Was it?
She turned her gaze from his once more as he asked his question, that depth of inquisitive resonance had left her voice as she responded, the most delicate of shrugs sending the cloak fluttering about her ankles as they strode on, “I came to Jamoura to find some components for a spell that I’m planning. Nothing over the top, some minerals that are native to the moon and perhaps some of this lovely wood I’ve set aflame…” Her chin tilted upwards, that spill of white hair flowing off her shoulders and down over her back as she continued along beside him.

“And I have no coven, Seren.” Her chin lowered as those eyes found his once more, the now simple but dark brown almost as unsettling in their intensity as her all black once had been. “I have little need to surround myself with others… The spirits speak to me clearly enough on my own.”

 

[Seren]

Location: Jamoura
Tag: [member="Jenmae Ophiro"]

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For the moment, the Young Wolf felt that his efforts were paying off. It was no small task to ignore the horrifically burnt remains that were his thigh. Moreover, it was no small feat to hobble along at a pace that did not leave him too far behind the White Witch. He did not realize that his ethereal benefactor had gone out of her way to slow the pace of her steps; and as a result a small degree of satisfaction erupted in the back of his mind. He wouldn't be too great a burden to his savior. He simply wouldn't. With each passing moment it seemed, gratitude became that which ran hot through his veins. Seren felt uncharacteristically warm as they walked, but his mind was too focused on the pallid beauty before his eyes to pay it too much thought.

It was a shame, too, for the azure depths of his eyes had become tainted. Not by the sweat or grime of their surroundings. Not even by the sulfur of the Dark Side. But rather, an emerald ring now wound itself around his irises. It was subtle - one that could be missed on a cursory glance. But the rings certainly were not present before. Seren himself, even if a mirror was shoved into his face, probably would not notice the change which had manifested in his sight. For all that mattered now was not wasting a single moment of her time. When she spoke, the Young Wolf found himself holding fast to her every word, and thus there was no attempt to withhold any information from Jenmae. Her question was about what the coven who pursued him thought they could accomplish by using his blood.

The Young Wolf raised and lowered his shoulders in a shrug whilst continuing. "I did not hang around long enough to find out, but something about pulling her out of the realm of spirits. If they got their way, I don't think Katrine would be coming back willingly." Once he had posed his answer, the woman's now-mortal gaze departed from the Young Wolf and was settled upon the path ahead. It came to be known that she had ventured to the forested world in order to acquire supplies for her works - a fact that was now interrupted by his plight. A pang of guilt erupted into being within the Wolf's stomach at this fact. "If you'll allow, once I am whole, I can make this up to you." he blurted out so quickly that his mind did not exactly process what was flying out of his lips. "I am...well, a wolf at heart. I can sniff out whatever you need."

His attempt at canine humor may have been lost upon the White Witch. But nonetheless, her next words found the pair having common ground. Seren had been born apart of a pack-like family. He was descended from a line of Witches whose roots stretched all the way back to Dathomir itself. And yet, in this Galaxy of theirs, he was just as alone as the woman who walked beside him. "You and I both." he said, simply. "Though, the spirits do not speak to me as they do you. For me, everything is quiet." To admit as much out loud was...to shine a light upon how he had been living prior to this moment. Skating from operation to operation in order to stay fed was basically the extent of his existence. There was no joy. No real purpose or direction. Nothing really.

"Jenmae, you've done quite a bit for me already. But...I can be of use to whatever spells or magicks you are weaving. I'm not typically found with an arrow in my thigh. Do you...May I stay?"

It was a completely outlandish thing to ask of a total stranger, and yet the words flowed so easily and so quickly from his mouth. The White Witch would recognize this...not as an attempt to fill the void in his life, but as the conclusion to that which she had began.

 

[Jenmae Ophiro]

Location: The Jungle, Jamoura
Tag: [member="Seren"]

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Deep brown eyes crinkled at the edges as she felt it. It was like a whisper in the back of her mind, the gentle entwining of two ends and [SIZE=11pt]a soft[/SIZE] pop. Slowly her head turned, those luminous eyes catching his and she could see what she knew so many would not. It was like a brilliant glow in her eyes, green like an infectious wound but brighter - and it wound its way around the irises of his eyes like a neon halo. It was beautiful, and in truth so simple. She didn’t grin at him, and she wouldn’t need to. Her pleasure would be something he could feel as she turned those eyes back to the path ahead of them - keeping that slightly slower pace. To most, it would seem like nothing more than a mild discoloration, and that suited her just fine.

The [SIZE=11pt]Dathomiri’s[/SIZE] eyes didn’t stray back to the boy as he sputtered on about his skills, though he would sense a peek in her interest when he mentioned that he was a wolf at heart. She’d been able to feel something strange about him… His blood was well suited to the magik she’d used, and if he spoke honestly, not in jest, then there were many things he would be useful for. Certainly finding someone inexperienced enough to ensnare with this new bit of sorcery she’d gathered was a pleasant turn of events - but someone with blood like his would prove valuable indeed. She mused silently as he continued on, wondering what sort of things she could turn this young pup into.

Even with their slowed pace, they would come upon [SIZE=11pt]Jenmae’s[/SIZE] ship shortly, but still, the boy droned on - lamenting his inability to speak to, or at least hear, the spirits. She didn’t react to that bit of news at all, but she did make note of it. With some work, she would help him to reforge that connection, or perhaps even built it anew. It would do her no good to have a servant that was unable to assist her… She needed strength. She needed someone at her side that would strive, as she did, for greater power. The witch needed a hungry wolf, not a lap dog.

“Yes, Seren, you may stay. I will give you ample opportunity to make what you have cost me tonight back - I can assure you of that.” As she spoke, she spotted in the darkness the looming shape of her ship. It was compact, built simply to take her where she needed to go and no more. It would serve to get them both clear of Jamoura - and she intended to take him home. Cularin was not far - and it was not a terrible place to nurse the pup back to health. The specter kept her pace even as they approached, the droid that piloted the vessel lowering the ramp as they neared, and the witch not pausing as she ascended, trusting the boy to follow.

“Come, little wolf - let’s get you home.”

 

[Seren]

Location: Jamoura
Tag: [member="Jenmae Ophiro"]

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It was ironic.

Though his life had been devoid of any purpose, meaning, or direction for so long...when the Young Wolf was whole, he would have snarled and balked at the leash. It was his refusal to accept being second or third fiddle which saw his relationship with Katrine, the Nightmother decimated to begin with. It was his pride which prevented him from being subjugated by the designs of his sire or the madness of his mother. Seren, when he was not devoid of essence and strength, typically hated any sort of shackles coming remotely near his existence. But in this moment...in this hour, the heavens aligned against him. His sordid condition muted the instinct to flee, or to even recognize what evil had been worked upon him. While, in the moment, it felt like absolute bliss...in truth, for the first time, a sort of binding had been done to his person.

Yet with it came an ocean of understanding. Awareness roiled over the Young Wolf as the White Witch uttered the conclusion to her magick. The seal upon his eyes settled in, and a bond was wrought between the Wolf and the Witch. At the moment, it was weak - for only time could cultivate it into being a vast ocean through which power, memory, and need could be shared. For the time being, Seren was Jenmae's completely; and perhaps under her subjugation he would find a new purpose in his life. Or perhaps even remember that stubborn nature which saw him depart from his home to come to the southern systems to begin with.

Nonetheless, he hobbled along after the pallid woman after she had spoken. He nodded in response to her words, promising that he would have plenty opportunity to make up for the wrong that he had occurred. He had cost the woman the ingredients to perform her magicks this day, but he would certainly see to it that this debt was paid in full. In the meantime, when bidden by Jenmae, Seren began to ascend the ramp and entered the vessel which belonged to her. Once within, he did not wait for her leave to lower himself to the floor of the cargo hold, settling his walking stick down unceremoniously and spreading out his wounded leg. He figured that she would understand - but if she did not, he would happily explain.

"Where is home for you, Jenmae?" he inquired, whilst his bewitched gaze took in his surroundings for the first time.

 

[Jenmae Ophiro]

Location: Jamoura
Tag: [member="Seren"]​

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Gentle footfalls and the sound of fabric against steel announced the witch's presence on the ship, those luminous eyes of her turning as she watched the young wolf ascend the ramp before recalling it into the ship. She watched silently as the door closed as well before she turned to the young man and allowed a gentle smile to grace her normally expressionless lips. It wasn't anything spectacular, but to him, it would be akin to the sun rising on the horizon after a long winter's night. She watched as he lowered himself onto the floor almost immediately, but kept that calm smile in place. The cloak she wore fluttered around her ankles a touch as she closed the distance between them and lowered herself onto her knees, bringing herself to eye level once more. Her hands rose to gently take his face between them, her eyes searching his a moment as she admired the charming green circles that twined around his pupils like tiny wreaths. Her maimed fingers trailed down along his jawline slowly as she retracted her hands into her lap, that small smile staying firmly in place.

"Our home, little wolf, is on Cularin until such a time as I've decided that you have resolved the debt that you find yourself in..." Her voice was as smooth and calm as ever as she settled herself on the ground before him, lifting her hands to carefully tug at the ties on the cloak that lay about her shoulders. With a few small tugs the heavy fabric loosened and with a shrug, she pushed it clear of her. The thick black fabric pooled on the floor around her, revealing a simple crimson dress, made from a plush velvet that hugged every inch of her torso before flaring ever-so-slightly around her narrow hips, pooling along with the cloak around her legs. It would have been warm in the forest to wear the dress along the with the cloak, but it didn't seem to have been bothering her in the least. She rested her hands back into her lap, the long sleeves of the dress nearly covering the backs of her knuckles when she rested her arms.

"The forests there are dense, and the population tends to steer clear of the wilds... I think that you'll quite like the little spot I've carved out for myself." As she spoke he'd feel as the ship began to rise, her eyes remaining on his as that smile faded back to nothing, her face neutral and expressionless once more. She carefully rose from her spot, crouching before him, and lifted the cloak to gently toss it towards him. "The trip won't take long - but I know you've lost a lot of blood. Use this to keep warm, and rest if you can." She regarded the young wolf for another long moment before she turned and strode towards the cockpit of the transport, leaving him to get himself as comfortable as he was able for the duration of the trip, the witch taking up a spot in the seat opposite the piloting droid as the ship broke the atmosphere, rocketing on its way to deliver them home.

 

[Seren]

Location: Jamoura
Tag: [member="Jenmae Ophiro"]

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The Young Wolf felt at ease.

For so long, the flare of his canine instincts had prevented Seren from finding true rest. Yet, as the mechanical whine of the ramp receding signaled their departure from this world...he felt as though a monumental weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Perhaps that was but another depth of the magick the White Witch had concocted. Whilst enraptured by her every movement, the Young Wolf also felt a sense of security which orbited around her. He felt truly at peace as she moved about the cabin and followed her footsteps with his eyes. If he were any more aware...if he had not lost as much strength as he had...perhaps he would have noticed the immediate stifling of his instincts all the more. For, the moment her cloak left her shoulders, the Wolf's eyes briefly fell to the crimson fabrics hugging her form.

If he were himself, he would have appreciated the pallid beauty before his eyes. Yet the emerald tainted more than just his mind; it skewed his perception of the woman entirely. For now, she was as the rising sun - flawless and untouchable, and as a result, a quiet respect commanded his gaze. And when she lowered herself to the floor, gracing his cheeks with the embrace of her touch, Seren leaned in. He savored the moment. Committed her scent to memory. And briefly felt the fatigue of the day's events weigh mightily upon his shoulders. His eyelids fluttered as she described the home that awaited them both. Cularin. His expression stiffened ever so slightly. And the freshly forged Bond between them would provide Jenmae all that she ever wanted to know.

He had been on Cularin before. In fact, it was there that he emerged into this Galaxy - broken and alone. He had come to hunt for the Nightmother, to bring her back as she was once the only part of his life with any meaning. But in the present, Cularin was nothing but the epicenter of the Young Wolf's regrets. Yet...now...the pallid touch upon his face offered to change that. To make the cradle of his regrets into a home. "I can't wait to see it." he breathed, gently lulling his eyes to a close. Jenmae must have felt his exhaustion, for shortly thereafter she offered him her cloak. He gladly accepted it and draped it over his form, basking in the scent of the Witch as slumber sank its claws into his form.

And in the midst of slumber, his mind became an open book to the woman. A tomb that she could thumb through with ease as they traveled through the stars. If she chose to indulge, the Young Wolf would be none the wiser.

 

[Jenmae Ophiro]

Location: CIS Space, en route to Cularin​

Tag: [member="Seren"]​

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Her expression didn't change as she felt the disgust through the connection she'd forged with the young wolf when she mentioned his new home. Instead, she just continued to gaze at him with a calm in those large, dark eyes of hers that urged the same response in him. She wasn't sure what had caused him to dislike Cularin so much, but in regards to her choices it mattered little - she would take him there, and he would find it to be pleasant enough in time. She'd see to it that he had no need to dislike it any more than he currently did. She had plans for the small niche she'd carved for herself on the planet, and she suspected that this newest addition would do nothing but further those machinations.

She could feel his exhaustion as she strode towards the seat in the cockpit of the shuttle, and she nursed that sense of sleep that was sneaking up on the young man. She wrapped it around his mind just as warmly as that cloak she'd offered him, and she felt him lose himself to sleep with a sense of muted pleasure. Yes, he'd do nicely.

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The shuttle jostled a touch as they entered the atmosphere above Cularin, and the witch pulled back that warm blanket she'd laid across Seren's mind. She also extracted herself from the seat she'd occupied for the last few hours, the ache of immobility something she ignored completely as her silent footsteps carried her back to the sleeping form of the wolf in the cargo portion of the shuttle. She gently lowered herself to crouch beside him, the tips of her still charred and painful-looking fingers slithering across the thick fabric of the cloak as she tilted her head, regarding the boy as he began to wake.

"We're home, little one." Cularin may have been a place that the wolf felt ill at ease, but this had been Jenmae's home ever since she'd left Dathomir. There were no witches here, none that knew of her presence anyways - and if they were aware of her, they left her well enough alone. It meant that she was welcome to do whatever it was she pleased in the dense jungle here, and now that she had the young wolf in toe... Well. Her options became all the more varied if this young man was willing to offer up his blood and his service. The ethereal woman would make excellent use of this gift she'd stumbled upon.

"Get up, Seren. I have much to show you."

 

[Seren]

Location: Cularin, Landing Zone​

Tag: [member="Jenmae Ophiro"]​

We're home, little one.

The Young Wolf did not realize that his mind had, yet again, become subject to the whims of the White Witch. When the sweet embrace of slumber found him, the resulting darkness was almost comatose. Seren had no dream. Knew no vivid visions of the past, present, or future. Rather, all was black. Black was all. He did not know how long he slept, nor did he spare a moment's thought to this fact when her voice lifted the veil. All at once, the warm blanket which had cascaded over his mind ceased to be, allowing the hum of engines to rouse him from his slumber. His eyelids began to stir as her charred flesh slithered along the cloak, eventually giving way to his azure sight. He blinked the exhaustion away - and motion seized him when she uttered his name. All notions of leisurely "rolling out of bed" died at the instant she gave her command, and Seren promptly rose to his feet.

Firstly, he offered the woman back her cloak before raising his arms above his head in a stretch. A monumental yawn escaped him before he returned his gaze to his savior. "Lead on, Jenmae." he said with a nod. She would notice that the emerald bands upon his irises had not changed since last she looked him directly in the eye. In fact, they seemed to only shine all the brighter having now had an opportunity to fester. Seren was truly none the wiser. In time, the pallid woman would lead the way down from the vessel, extending the ramp of the ship to the surface below. And, though he made certain not to utter his thoughts on Cularin, the spider-wire of providence which ran betwixt their minds told the Witch all that she needed to. The memory came to Seren's mind the moment that he began to disembark from the vessel, squinting against the all-too familiar light.

It had been a day just like this when he arrived.

The Future had been abandoned in favor of the Past. Seren had come here, taking advantage of Cularin's eccentric relationship with Time, in order to seek after his beloved sister. She, truly, was all the Wolf had in this world...in all worlds. And thus, for fear that harm had befallen her, he sought after the woman who had vanished. But in playing in the realm of literal Gods, Seren paid the price. Upon setting foot upon Cularin, his attempt to shift into the form of the Wolf beget agony. And agony beget confusion. Time itself had wormed itself way into his essence, slowing the transition which had become second nature to a painful crawl. He stopped when the bone of his offhand shattered as it contorted in otherworldly ways, crying out as the realization ripped into his mind.

He had lost what made him Lupine in the hunt for Katrine.

And in the Present, it was all for naught. Seren shook his head at the thought and simply followed after Jenmae, holding his peace. Perhaps whatever she had to show him would rival the pain which had decimated his morale all those months ago.

 

[Jenmae Ophiro]

Location: Home, Cularin​

Tag: [member="Seren"]​

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She accepted the cloak into her waiting hands as the boy stood, her own legs lifting her to stand quietly at his side as he stretched and yawned. What may have been endearing, perhaps even cute[/t] to some brought only a curious tilt of her head. The way some people did the most simple of tasks was an anomaly to the Witch. Perhaps there was an alternate time where she too could have been this... This very real, human-like creature that stood before her. Perhaps a little less time spent in other people's minds, analyzing and propping and tearing... Oh well. No reason to worry herself with the possibilities.

She carefully strode passed her ward and moved to the ramp as it descended to the soft forest floor beyond the shuttle. Her steps were as soft and silent as always as the small train of her gown whispered along the metal ramp and down into the moist earth that they'd landed the ship in. All around them was a dense forest, wholly unlike the trees from Jamoura. Everything here was lush, vibrant green - even the underbrush like a brilliant green carpet along the forest floor. The heat of the midday sun as it shone, mottled through the thick canopy above, was like stepping into a sauna. The humidity would immediately drench even the hardiest of folk.

She paused at the base of the ramp and extended a hand to the young Wolf, gently curling her fingers around his arm as her other held the folded cloak against her chest. She spoke softly as they began to wander through the trees, mirroring their earlier journey but with very different flora. "You've been here before then, little one... I'm glad for it. I don't need to help you get accustomed to the climate. It will save us a great deal of time if you aren't constantly overheating or misjudging the local wildlife." That last thought brought a small smile to her lips, something that would flow between that bond she'd formed. Something that could make her smile even a touch was something that would bring him a mighty sense of joy - something that could make his sunshine brighter was something to be sought after.

"Soon the nature of this place shall be altered... I would like you to experience it as it is now so that you might bear witness to what I do here..."