#grimfang

Wolfsbane

-Real name: Rahne Sinclair

-A.k.a.: Queen Rahne, Mutate 490, Princess Rain, Queen Rain, Grimfang, Rain

-Publisher: Marvel

-Type: Mutant

-Afilliations: Alpha Flight, Bratpack, Excalibur, Genoshan Mutates, Hellions, Holy Guard, Morlocks, New Mutants, Paragons, The Lupine, X-Factor, X-Force, X-Men, Xavier Institute.

To say that everything hurt would have been an understatement…

The low din of Zuldazar’s port was what pulled the prone female from her sleep; the sounds of a bustling hub of commerce and trade as dozens of trolls and other races peddled their wares. Beyond that, the rolling ocean waves and sharp biting caws of seagulls were heard beyond the voices. Life continued to flourish, even as she lay broken within these walls. Cracking open her eyes, Cersae was pleasantly surprised to find that both did so without much discomfort. The swelling in the one eye must have gone down throughout this night’s rest. Or mayhap it was late day…? Turning her head towards the open window, the dim glow of sunlight could barely be seen over the horizon. It had to be morning; the cries of the vendors outside her window bespoke the freshness of wares and new merchandise. A gust of wind brought a fresh mist of sea spray in along with the chill of morning and she shivered, only to feel the small, warm body against her side twist once…twice, before her son’s body flopped sideways and two tiny legs swung over her blanketed legs. Cersae smiled; cracked lips complaining at the stretch of her skin before being soothed by a parched tongue.  Water would be nice… A thundering snore came from the other side of her and she rolled her head slowly on the pillow; dimly glowing eyes settling on her, thankfully, sleeping mate as he sat perched near her bedside. Her eyes traced his face; over his jaw-line covered with a fine spattering of dark stubble. Thick arms were crossed over his broad chest and another small smile appeared on her face at the sight of the crafted arm-ring that remained in place over his bicep.  Another long snoring drawl sounded from his chest, and it took everything Cersae had to roll her lips together so she didn’t laugh.  She didn’t want to wake him.  His sleep had been interrupted by her cries of pain and reoccurring night terrors that…she admittedly couldn’t shake. This past evening was the first real restful night she’d gotten in nigh on a month.

Her gaze drifted back to his face then; taking in the darker green rings beneath his eyes and the furrow that resided on his brow, even in his sleep. She’d put that furrow there; in concern for her own safety, and Sadaak’s. Renne had…

Cersae inhaled quietly; a deep breath of air as her heart beat faster at the thought of the woman who had put her in this bed. It made her feel weak; this fear that settled in the pit of her stomach and made her eyes dart towards both the door and windows. She hadn’t asked him how he felt…what he was thinking when he discovered them gone…not yet. When her body was on the mend, and she could offer the same comfort he afforded her… when they could soothe their fears and heal one another together…she’d wait for the day, but today was not it.

Turning back to look at their son, she lifted a hand and immediately felt a pang of remorse and anger as she laid eyes on her mangled but healing appendage. Broken fingers had been reset, thankfully, in her sleep and bandages wrapped tightly between her fingers to keep them separated. Exhaling, she then rested the weight of the hand gently on Sadaak’s round stomach, stroking softly. A garbled, content murmur was their son’s only response as his tiny legs kicked along her thighs and sharply-jutting hipbones. Wincing a bit, the elf smiled wryly and gently pushed her son’s legs so he was now curled up against her side; back pressed into her ribcage. She was thankful Grimfang still slept; the sound of his soft snoring behind her giving her the confidence to move, albeit slowly, into a sitting position. Oh, everything still hurt; her hands complaining as she put weight on them, but being bedridden for longer than –she- wanted was not in her plans.  She already felt like dead weight; like she wasn’t being the equal half to their whole. It was unfair to Grim…to their son… Legs shifting slowly, bare feet found the stone floor and she recoiled; toes curling at the reminder of her previous prison cell. Swallowing, Cersae closed her eyes and lowered her bare feet once more and shifted to the corner of the bed; cradling her wounded hands against her chest. Across the way, a floor length piece of polished metal hung on the wall; a mirror that she was certain was kept from her line of sight for a reason. She knew how she looked. Bruised, beaten…

…broken.

….bullshit.

Face screwing up in pure defiance and anger, with a surge of energy; she forced herself to her feet on trembling legs. There was no way to see the look on her face, but she was certain that she was grimacing; teeth gritted as sweat beaded on her brow. Her eyes watered as she held her weight on leg muscles that had, in hindsight, been the only relatively untouched part of her body.

Her legs shook and she bit back a grunt as her steps took her forward; further away from the bed. As she stopped to catch her breath, the fact the snoring had stopped caused the female to crane her head towards where Grimfang rested. His chest rose and fell slowly still; arms moving as he continued to sleep propped up against the wall. He was still in full armor; a fact that had gone unnoticed earlier. Her heart ached for her husband, who had to deal with the loss of his mate and son…if only for a time.  It was that fear that drove her to fight Renne…at every turn, at everything she’d thrown at her…

It was that reason alone she rebuked that bitch’s attempts to pry her family from her.

She watched him a moment longer; if only to make certain that he was still resting, before she began taking slow, measured steps towards the metal that hung on the wall. Cersae wasn’t certain how long it took her to cross the distance, but she knew that she felt as though she’d crossed Vol’dun on foot. The parched feeling in her throat was getting stronger, but she’d need help with the water.  

One thing at a time…

Shuffling into view of the mirror, there was an audible gasp that escaped the elf, before she pressed the back of a shaking and mangled hand her mouth. Cersae knew it was bad; the brief answers that she could get from her mate while he attended to her gently and lovingly were…telling. But this?  She hadn’t expected this. Dimly glowing jade-green eyes stared back at her from the reflection, but that was the only part of her she recognized. Her once healthy and sunkissed skin was now pale with lack of nutrition and light. The freckles once thought lost now spattered the scarred bridge of her nose and gaunt looking cheeks. She looked skeletal, in appearance; her eyes sunken and dull with sharp cheekbones and angular features. The bruising was fading, albeit slowly. Dark purples were fading to an ugly, mottled yellow color. The loose-fitting shirt she’d been given to rest in fell to her knees and hung off one shoulder; exposing her protruding collarbones. 

Her formerly mangled fingers were wrapped tightly in bandages; hidden from her sight. Lowering her hand, she touched her side and hips slowly; feeling the bulge of each bone from beneath the shirt. Her eyes closed and she fought back the urge to cry.

She had walked through hell, and now she looked the part, and her family was suffering because of it. Because of her –weakness-…

Eyes opening, they flared in anger as she looked around the small room; her weapons and armor were gone. She’d need to commission new sets to be made immediately if she was going after this –bitch- that had done this to her. If Renne thought that she could get away with this, if she thought-

The weight of revenge settled heavily on her shoulders then, and the elf deflated under the weight of the implication.  It was revenge that drove Renne to tear her family apart, and while she prayed for the woman’s acts to be revisited upon her tenfold…she didn’t have it in her to hunt the woman down.  Not yet.

Her life was here.

As if she needed to be reminded, Cersae slowly shifted her weight to turn towards the two men in her life. The familiar, slow smile that appeared felt normal. Sadaak had, in absence of his mother’s presence, taken to sprawling out like a little green starfish in the middle of the bed; clinging to the pillow that must have still carried her scent. Grimfang’s legs had shifted, but he was still at rest; or, at the very least, pretending to be.

For her sake. Turning away slowly from the mirror, the elf began crossing the distance once more across the room; one tiny step at a time as she continued to cradle her hands against her chest. Oh, she was going to pay for this later, she was certain, but she needed this freedom of movement to know that she was still herself – stubborn, irrational, and proud.

Her shuffling brought her to Grimfang’s side, as he began to stir. She could smell the thick, heady scent of some type of smoke; likely something to ease his nerves…and the remnants of a thick alcohol to numb them. It took all her willpower to hold herself steady as she leaned to press a shaking kiss to his furrowed brow; inhaling the leather and smoke, liquor and sweat that she identified purely with –him-. Cersae felt his deep inhale of breath before she spoke against his forehead, teasingly, “Good morning, sunshine. Where’s my coffee?”

It was far colder there than it had any right to be. Forget that the land was called Frostfire, and snow was constantly falling, melting and then falling again in a vicious cycle that kept the landscape covered in a thick blanket of white. By every right, Cersae should have hated the cold… Instead, she loved it; treasured it as a reminder of where her future lies now. High atop the crested hill where Grimfang’s fortress sat, the Elvin woman sat on the stoop leading into the hut that she and her husband had claimed as their own. A warm mug was nestled in her hands; steam rising from the rim as her fel-green gaze followed their son through his overly boisterous bounding through the snow banks.  The delighted laughter that squealed from the young boy reminded her so very much of his father, and the asshole got so much say in him already that it really was a bit unfair he’d gotten the laughter too. Truth be told…she’d have it no other way. The elongated ears were all her; that’s for certain, but his jade colored skin and dark hair were entirely Grimfang. Even Sadaak’s facial expressions were small miniature replicas of his father and Cersae was grateful for the reminder when her lover was away. It was in moments like these that she shed the heavy steel-studded leathers and masks to enjoy what little peace that was offered. Here, in these stolen moments behind fortified walls, she was Cersae – Mah’men and wife, and little more. She wished Grim was here. Exhaling quietly, Cersae lifted the mug to her lips; savoring the long draw of the bitter liquid and the warmth it provided as she watched their son take a nosedive into an embankment. A hand lifted as she watched some of the grunt’s rush forward to help him, but they weren’t raising an invalid. If Sadaak were truly hurt, the piercing howl would be ten times louder than his current complaints, and he’d be asking for his ‘mah’men, Boppa, or Ruru.’   It took a moment, and Sadaak righted himself; large blue eyes finding her before he giggled and Cersae scrunched her nose at him, “You’re giving Boppa’s men plenty to worry over, you know that, squirt?” Sadaak laughed; babbling to himself so softly that she couldn’t hear as he ran off again into the snow. A few of the wolves followed suit; chasing and knocking each other over while their boy squealed with laughter. No worries of the war or lines bleeding between blue and red…at least, not yet. Even now, he was training; learning…learning to follow tracks, to listen to his companions…to follow in his father’s footsteps. The clearing of a throat beside her drew Cersae from her thoughts; her gaze shifting to the grunt who stood there, albeit a bit sheepishly, as he held a package in his hands.  Plainly wrapped, with brown paper and twine, it was the size of a teacup and looked dwarfed in the other orc’s hands.  Her brow arched and she murmured, “Well, now he’s just being lazy if he’s getting you to do his handy work…”  Cersae’s voice was tinged with humor, but the grunt shook his head quickly and thrust out the package.

“No m-my la-“ “Cersae…is fine,” she mused; watching the grunt with an amused expression as she took the package from his hands and watched as he returned –hastily- to his duties. She couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped her, before she lifted her gaze to keep an eye on Sadaak. He was a few yards away; playing with one of the troll guards that had knelt to talk to the boy. Tiny green hands rubbed along the male’s tusks, and Cersae sent him an apologetic smile before turning her attention back to the box in her hands. Lips pursed, she rolled her eyes playfully as she murmured to herself, “Smooth, lover. Very smooth…”   Tugging at the twine, the string gave way and the paper unraveled to a simply made, small wooden box with a latch and hinges.  One more look to her son, and Cersae then opened the lid with a ‘click’; her brow furrowing at the violet-green lily that rested atop a clear-looking crystal.  Blinking, she lifted the flower by its stem; the delicate plant looking as though it flexed and moved on its own…as if it were breathing…

Setting the flower beside her, she reached for the crystal next; a warm pulse of energy shocked her fingertips before the clear crystal began pulsing steadily. The soft blue-white light was soothing, and she thought perhaps that this could be a gift for Sadaak. Palming the crystal, she felt the thrum from it’s power; a steady thumping against her hand much akin to that of a heartbeat. Something soothing…something-