When your heart hurts, days like today are the antidote.

His return to the summit had been brief, only to rest for a time and map out his next mission beyond their borders to scout for herbs.

As Quicksilver rose his muzzle skyward to voice his departure to @Ira and the others, he felt a raindrop land directly on the tip of his nose. Unphased, he swept his tongue over the water droplet and turned toward a new, undiscovered direction beyond their Eastern slopes to begin his descent.

By the time he reached the valley below his mountain home, the clouds had rolled in dark and unforgiving. They released a Springtime shower despite the sun's effort to burn through, and he felt it cool and dampen the coarse furs along his sterling dorsal as he set his path toward the lake that sprawled ahead.

There would be an abundance of flora there, he hoped, where the water would bring life to the earth, and the silverwhite was keen to see what treasures he might source that he could relocate to bloom in Vanderfell's garden. As he drew closer, however, he was certain he'd detected a number of scents - strangers. An uneasy feeling settled in his gut and he slowed his pace, concerned to note that the further he roamed the stronger the aroma.


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[narrow width=700]The sound of Quicksilver's call rang out in the distance, and Valeska instinctively turned her head to stare up at the mountain that loomed before her. She couldn't see anything beyond the dense ring of clouds encircling its peaks, but she knew they were there - watching, likely waiting for her to misstep. She was grateful that Ira hadn't sought conflict between the packs, but she also understood from the hard set of her jaw during their introduction that these friendly terms were tenuous at best. It was important to behave well and not ruin a good thing, especially since her packmates seemed to be flourishing so well in this beautiful valley.

Valeska sighed and returned to her busywork, presently inspecting a ring of mushrooms that had popped up overnight. Skinny stems with small, round tops the color of warm gold, like fat little umbrellas; she'd never seen them before (or very many mushrooms in general), and she made a mental note to return to the little patch. She was struck with the odd desire to eat one, but refrained. Harper's words echoed forever in her mind; 'vun day you poison yourself, and ven die horrib-lee'. The little wolf grimaced.

These were, in fact, of the variety Psilocybe cubensis, and this is important.

Through the rain, a hazy figure milled about in the distance; it startled her as he was unlike the others of her pack, for he was tall and white, and moved with a controlled sort of grace that accentuated his cautious steps around the shores of their foggy lake. He seemed unsure of himself the deeper he moved into Elysium territory. Valeska rose, leaving her little patch of fungus, and trotted closer to see if she could assist him with anything.

“Ho there!” she called through the drizzle, shortening the distance between them in a few quick strides. As he neared, her nostrils flared and she drew in the scent of Ira, of Vanderfell - so there were more of them! How grand. Perhaps they had come to visit for a friendly chat after all, and help break the ice. Her tail started wagging instinctively, a foolish, well-meaning smile splashed across her face. How wonderful it was to have neighbors!

“I am Valeska, High Priestess of Elysium, and your cheerful and blessed neighbor. Has Ira sent you? Have need of anything? Happy to help, always love new face,” the pale wolf beamed, thrilled their leader would offer such an encounter.

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The voice of a stranger brought his ears forward, and his tail low. Quicksilver crouched a little as he blinked curiously toward the approaching figure, hastily announcing his apology: “sorry, I... I did not mean to -” But no hostility came from the silver wolfess' maw, and if anything she was instantly welcoming.

Her warmth was a small comfort to him, but he felt unprepared to let down his guard. It was clear to the young druid that she was not alone there, that her comrades might appear from nowhere to rush him off. Fearful of unintentionally provoking her, Quicksilver kept his powder blue eyes cast downward - until she said a word that triggered something buried deep in the forgotten vault of his memory.

Elysium.

He blinked, doe-eyed, and gawked up into the face of his apparent neighbour, with the sudden ringing in his ears meaning he heard nothing beyond that name.

“Did you say...” he swallowed, awkwardly fumbling over his words, “Elysium?”

But what does that mean!?

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[narrow width=700]His meekness surprised her. She had never encountered anyone, to her knowledge, who had ever been frightened of her - it was a strange feeling, and more than a little unpleasant. The only times she had wished to be fearsome and intimidating were always in those instances where she was clearly outmatched; that is to say, all of them. She was neither large nor particularly muscular, just a stocky little thing built more like a mountain goat than a lanky predator.

He crouched, and so did she, choosing to speak to him from ground-level in the hopes of easing some of his tension. To an outsider, it looked as if they were schoolchildren sharing some great secret between them.

Valeska was still smiling, all ears and attention, when he sputtered; ’did you say... Elysium?’

Her smile remained, but you could have heard a pin drop.

So... he didn’t know of Vanderfell’s new neighbors? Ira hadn’t said a word? Not one? An entire pack of wolves sat at the bottom of their mountain, all joy and goodwill and generosity, and she didn’t think them important enough to mention?

A little piece of her soul broke off and floated away into the ether.

“Yes, Elysium... we met with Ira to discuss friendly neighbor terms,” she replied, clearly crestfallen. “Thought she might have sent stranger to extend more of the friends-making. Is fine, was just so eager to meet and show around.”

Valeska paused, the silence yawning between them like a chasm.

“... You have name?”
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He saw her expression drop, and confusion tightened the press of Quicksilver's ears against his crown. He dipped his muzzle further in silent apology to the sterling she-wolf with disappointment clear on her, though the explanation for her shift in demeanour did nothing to piece his puzzle together. The young druid blinked, though he blinked up in recognition at the mention of Ira's name.

“Oh!” She'd hoped to meet the neighbours, it seemed. Quicksilver collected himself a little, straightened to allow himself more comfort from the strain of his submissive crouch, though awkwardness kept his white-tipped tail tucked low. “I apologise, I... I've been away, scouting, I didn't-.” He smiled thinly, a timid expression, “I did not know. But it's nice to meet you!”

The name of her pack bugged him, reminded him of something he wondered might've been dear to him once, but he tried to shrug it off to guiltily turn focus to his host. She requested his name, and he provided: “I'm Quicksilver.”


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[narrow width=700]Moods for Valeska were mercifully swift, changing as quickly as gusts of wind in a thunderstorm - though a little less severe. She recovered herself and straightened back up, her face lighting up once again in a cheerful smile. No matter. Perhaps it was better this way, and she could leave her own impression on some of Vanderfell's members without any preconceived opinion. She thought their initial meeting had gone well, but it was no secret that Valeska was a little peculiar in her speech and mannerisms; she didn't always leave a stellar impression with her halting English and lack of refined social graces that would normally be expected of a leader.

She liked to think she was a shepherd of the people, not a queen to a court.

The way he crouched so submissively was a little distracting, and she shuffled awkwardly as he lowered himself further still - only occasionally did she demand respect, and those instances were either scheduled ceremonies in worship of the Five or settling squabbles between packmates. “You do not need to... please, stand up,” she said with some embarrassment. “It was my mistake. Do not feel bad. It is good to meet you as well, Quicksilver. How long have you been with Ira? She seem very reasonable, though still surprised she liked us to stay.”

Something in his eyes shifted whenever she spoke of her pack, and she couldn't for the life of her understand where it might come from. They hadn't had any interaction prior to this... so why did his expression falter so?

The little wolf cleared her throat. “Ah. Do you feel unwell? Maybe journey made you tired. Come out of rain, have found nice rock to sit under and chat,” she said, motioning with her tail for him to follow her. It wasn't too far; nothing was very far in general within the bounds of their territory, and one could see most major landmarks from a distance. The boulder in question - it needed a name, she mused - was one that had garnered her interest multiple times over the last week, utilizing it for its high vantage point and the shade it provided beneath its jutting form. In this instance, it was a glorified umbrella. “Come! Do not bite,” she called from underneath, barely visible through the slanting rainfall.

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The druid gathered himself at Valeska's request, though maintained a certain shyness about him as he moved to follow at her invitation. She led him toward a nearby rock and he stepped tentatively beneath it, shaking his sodden crown to free his ears of water-logging. His tongue nervously trailed his maw and he turned pallid eyes to look curiously upon his ashen-furred neighbour as she beamed his way, though he lifted his gaze to better examine their stone shelter.

He wondered how long it'd been perched like that, and if it was safe. It would fall, surely, in time, and knowing his like it would crush him.

Not wanting to appear rude of ungrateful for Valeska's hospitality, Quicksilver lingered for a time and made small-talk with her before it was time to depart, and he left toward home to rest for a time.


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