if you wanted a peek

He woke at the evening hour, jaws stretched into a wide yawn. With no one sharing his den, Torben felt less self-conscious about his bear-like stretching. He was quick to groom the road off his coat, trying to soak in his new pack's scent. Another round of patrolling awaited him at night, for most of Duskguard was asleep.

Still, he did not move. Not yet. A sleepy gaze was cast over the location, half-lids content for the moment. It was nice to listen to the bustle of activity. Usually, he woke up and everyone was in their den already. He did not stretch his paws forward into the fading light, though. There was still time before it was safe to wander about.

For now? He'd ponder if anyone was curious about him still. Aries, Soledad, Archon, and others had seen him around. But this was not the true bulk of Duskguard. It'd take more time to settle, he knew this. Resting his head on his paws, he huffed quietly and just enjoyed the eventual setting of the sun.

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Night was falling, and similarly, Olive had begun to stir. She was a creature that suffered little sleep; her days were entirely full with the needs of her children and the needs of her pack, and her nights were dedicated to her own pursuits. Organizing herbs, supplicating the moon — it was a sacred time of quietude, and she was loathe to give that up. She usually crept back into the nursery in the wee hours of the morning, snuggling in with her pile of pups to get a few hours of rest before they all inevitable awoke and the cycle began again.

Poking her head outside of the threshold of her nursery, the children listening to a story told from the expert beak of @Lounatuuli, Olive surveyed the lands just beyond, concealed high up in the mountains. At first she didn't see much, and followed up her initial inquiry by extricating herself from the lair entirely. It was only then that she espied the great, white man lounging in the mouth of a den nearby. "Torben," she greeted with a dip of her head, wondering mildly if this was the beginning of his day, or the end.

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"Lady Olive."

He... was not sure what to call her, to be honest, outside of her name. He tried to get to all fours, avoiding the direct sunlight in the process, as he faced the alpha woman. His red eyes dropped respectfully, knowing the wolf instinctively lowered their gaze to the superior, dominant ones. He also knew Duskguard was much less traditional if they could accept other species, but didn't want to push his luck. His luck was really bad sometimes.

He did not move from the safety of the den. "Sorry if I don't greet ye properly; the sun sickness, ah..." Torben raised a pale nose to the flickering light "if I was gonna night patrol, I'd rather do it strongly." He didn't want the sun to zap him, especially if he had found a predator or an enemy on their land. He really did not want to half-ass anything. His gaze returned to Olive's face, even if it was somewhat lower still. He always felt it was sneaky... He hated it.

"Ah, did ye need me fer something?" he added, sitting up a bit straighter.

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Interestingly he didn't approach, choosing to say within the confines of his shallow cavern. His stature dropped in deference, to which she sheepishly grinned and flickered her ears, appreciating the sentiment but somehow uncomfortable with such a hierarchy. Perhaps it was because she imagined and fashioned herself to be just like Torben, or any other member of Duskguard. A living, breathing soul, tasked by the Gods to care for those around her.

Olive gave him a half-bow, essentially a nod. "Sun sickness," she commented after him, to commit such a thing to her mind and memory, and rack her brain for any experience she had with such a thing. The shaman-woman could only assume that it had everything to do with the pinkish-red hue of his skin and his mucosa, and wondered if he wouldn't mind divulging more information about the condition that so affected his circadian rhythm.

"What is it like?" she offered the platform to talk about his experience, as if that was the answer to his own question. In case he didn't know, "I am a healer, with perhaps a perverse curiosity of all conditions." she mentioned off-hand, allowing her tail to sway low from hock to hock, as she stepped closer to that he would not feel the need to sacrifice his shelter. She hoped that he didn't feel different or afflicted, in her drawing attention to it.

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"Ah... erm..." Torben's eyes flickered uncomfortably, wondering how to begin "proper term is albino" perhaps there "it hurts to look at light, especially t' sun. It makes me weary, uncomfortable... It can even burn" He shuffled his large paws "we didn't have albino wolves in me tribe regularly. Before I came here, ah, it was considered a blessin' of the gods. An'thing different was, though to be frank." He chuckled sheepishly. He recalled his parents' joy, then disappointment he could not play and laugh in the sun. They were not disappointed in him, no, but disappointed the gods took from him that joy.

"It's an adjustment" he said clearly "growin' up, I was restless. Angry. Unappreciative. Didn't have many friends, but learned to like the quiet. Kept to myself mostly. Grew up doing patrols of our community at night, keepin' others safe. Soon some others joined me, so I wasn't alone" He shrugged "but any condition is... trial and error, and I don't hafta be a healer to know that" Another shuffle "so, I won't really be round during the day. Especially if there is a meetin' during a very sunny day... I apologize. Far as me tribe's shamans knew, and I know, there is no cure. Ya can treat the burns, but not much else. Avoiding t' sun is what makes it work."

Keeping cool, avoiding the sun... Avoiding light in general. Torben hoped Duskguard would appreciate what he could do.

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To the Priestess's pleasure, Torben began to divulge a plethora of information about his condition and how it impacted his life. She delighted to hear that anythingdifferent was revered as god-like, in his old pack. That was much how Olive saw these things, but there did exist those wolves out there who hated anything that was an anomaly, and sought to rid the world of it.

Those were not her people.

Olive smiled endearingly at him. "There is nothing to cure," she stated simply, in his response about the work of shamans. Olive herself was something of a shamaness, but in her experience, things were only problems if one made them so. Therein lied the true power of self love, and self acceptance. Olive found that the best treatment to any chronic condition was to work on the patient's mind.

She joined him in the shallow shelter, despite the still-setting of the sun. Give it another moment, and the light would be obscured behind the high peaks of the Vale. "I thought I was quite the moon-creature," she admitted, coming up beside him, two pale creatures in the shadows, "but it seems you have had me beat this entire time."

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