Killing Davina

Ochd

"My dear, I've seen you grow up," Enora says, her voice light as a feather, when it suddenly lowers, "now tell me what you are hiding."

"I am not hiding anything," Davina chuckles.

"Dear," Enora starts, holding Davina's hands in her thin, shivering ones, "the Gods have been whispering about the connection ever since you two met, you don't need to hide it from me. Or him, for that matter."

Davina pulls her hands away, frowning. "No, no there is no possible one. I'm not even talking about that. I hate his guts, if he even has any."

A smirk pulls at the corners of Enora's mouth and her eyes seem to lighten.
"I never named a specific person. You see, love likes to dance between adoration and despise."

The color drains from Davina's face, and a look of absolute horror takes over.
"No, stop," she says, her voice high pitched, "Gods can talk in weird ways, you must have misread the situation. And also, a connection is not, and will never be, a priority. My pack is, and right now my pack is in danger."
Enora pouts, but keeps quiet to let the pent up girl talk.
"Beste will attack MccRaeh, starting overseas. I am going to cross the water."

Enora glances worriedly at her, but determination shines bright in her dark gaze.
"When you see him, tell him to return safely."
Davina nods, squeezing one of Enora's hands reassuringly.
"Does the lovely Alpha know about this?"

"He is not my Alpha, nor is he lovely and he won't know until I'm gone."

Enora shakes her head and stands up from her seat, walking over to a wildly grown plant in the corner.
"Davina, please don't forget that death is something that you are vulnerable of, too."
Enora absently strokes the leafs, her eyes fixated on the chipped wallpaper. She hears Davina sigh, probably rolling her eyes at the back of the elder. Enora turns around, facing her. Davina visibly sits up straighter, keeping her expression neutral.
"I heard about the fight you started with the Alpha. If the Beta hadn't been there, only the Gods know how you'd be right know."

"I didn't start the fight," Davina denies, crossing her arms.

"You spoke to him using his given name, in front of the whole pack. Any Alpha's natural response would be to slit your throat. You are lucky to walk away from it with merely a bruise," Enora scolds.
The wrinkles, gathered through the years, prominent on her forehead and cheeks.

Davina stands, hands balled in fists and thunder raging in her pinned glare on Enora.
"I am an Alpha. I am an equal and I am allowed to use whatever name I see fit for him." Her voice doesn't quiver, yet the volume of it increases.
The air in the room thickens and suddenly, Davina's presence takes up more space than seems to be available.

"You are not!" Enora shouts, standing tall against the angered wolf in front of her.
A thick aura oozing off of the girl. She opens her mouth, canines visible, to argue, but Enora cuts her off, "you are not an Alpha, Davina. You have the blood of one, but you lost your pack the moment Corvi beat your father in an honest fight for the title. A fight supported by law."
Davina growls, "what law? No one obeys those anymore unless they are beneficial for their own use."

Enore lowers her voice, the vibrations threading through the air, "If you win the title back, then you are a worthy Alpha whom I will respect. Now, you are a wolf of Romild who lacks the respect to accept Corvi's fair victory."

"You're siding with him?" Davina says exaggerated, gesturing wildly.

Enora ignores her question and continues, "but Davina, like I said earlier, the connection has already been made. Reevaluate your priorities."

"You can tell the Gods to shred that damn red string, or I will do it myself," Davina snarls lividly, stomping out of the house and slamming the door shut behind her.
Once outside, an aggravated scream pierces the air. Mumbling curses after curses, she rushes towards the trees. The leafs shield her from the sun. As she strolls through the unattended nature, she yawns, being reminded of how she hadn't slept. The adrenaline of the fight didn't let the thought of sleeping enter her mind this night. Dawn had most likely taken place while she was cleaning her foot.
Her gaze lowers to her still bare feet, padding on the forest ground. It's a miracle that the wound didn't reopen, though the healing must have already started. Without any direction in mind, she keeps walking. Her fingers brush against the bark of the trees and the leafs along with hidden thorns of bushes she passes.

After a while of wandering aimlessly, the trees start to thin out and bushes stop growing in clusters. She tilts her head, gazing past the trees and notices a small cottage. The grass around it reaches her knees, clearly not taken care of for years.
Above the grass next to the house, a stone sticks out, flowers threading around it. A shiver crawls through her. She pulls her hands to her chest, not wanting to come too close to the mark of death. The air ripples around the stone, like a sudden warmth.
She sucks in a breath and turns her head to the cottage. A small, wooden home on pillars. She climbs the short stairs, each step accompanied by the creaking of old wood. The roof has seen better days, without rips and greenery, but no holes are visible.

Carefully, she opens the door. The pleasant temperature of the home surprises her, as she enters the shelter. The few windows are covered by white, almost see-through curtains. A round table stands in the middle of the room, and a small kitchen with the bare necessities is crammed next to the door against the wall. The room doesn't have any space for a couch, yet the owner still put a chair, the same type that stands around the table, in the corner of the room next to a door. Though the chair is barely visible from underneath all the cushions pilled up on it. Davina steps around the table and pushes the door next to the chair open. She steps in, but is immediately stopped by a bed. The bed fits at least two people and is cornered by walls on the other three sides. Windows, hidden behind the same curtains, line the wall opposite of Davina. She walks back into the main room, leaving the bedroom door open.

Behind the table, next to the front door, the wall is covered. Sketches, a painting of a whirlwind of brown, white and yellow and butterflies pinned up on the wall around a framed black and white picture. Davina advances and stops in front of the picture.

The once pure back has faded into different tints of grey. In the center, a middle aged woman stands. Her hair braided into two braids and a loose boho dress clothing her. The smile on her face is contagious and even in grey, the sparkle in her eyes hasn't disappeared. One of her hands lays on the head of a dark colored wolf, standing on all fours. The wolf's head almost reaches the woman her shoulders. His dark eyes seem fixated on the camera. On the other side of the woman, a male stands, one hand slung across the woman her shoulders, pulling her close. Laughing with his mouth open, the crinkles around his eyes and the dimples make the boy a nice sight to look at. Wild hair reaches his ears, and he is wearing a simple jeans and loose t-shirt, he looks no older than twenty. Lastly, another wolf, smaller than the dark one, is captured sniffing the other hand of the woman, as she stretches it towards the smaller wolf.

A smile pulls at Davina's lips. She leans back, her hands leaving imprints in the dust on the table, bathing in the warm feeling the picture spreads through her.
The front door next to her creaks open along with a small gust of wind entering the home. Whispering grass outside flows over into the almost soundless creaking of wood. She turns around, her fingertips white from the dust. As she rakes one of her hands through her hair, dust particles stand out against her chocolate hair. Footsteps enter the cozy home, the person who has entered making the home feel very claustrophobic.

"You seem lost," Moreno says, his gaze wandering over her distressed figure.