To Save Somebody's Life and Have It Blow up in His Face

@Orlaiths maybe

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Foolish as it may be, the roan queen had not been fully satisfied with Orlaith's departure from this world. They did not always get along and she knew the same went for many others in Vanderfell, but she had still made her way into the Hedrad. She had still earned her place amongst them and the gods. There was no requirement in life to please every soul one passed, and at the end of the day, Orlaith had done her job. She deserved to rest easy now, living lavishly and feasting amongst the fallen in an eternal rest, but due to their circumstances, she had not been able to offer more in her burial.

Perhaps that was why she had spent her patrols with eyes to the branches. Why she foolishly clambered narrow ledges to drop rocks until she managed to bring down a hive and ultimately wait out the swarm that exploded from its confines. It was the one thing she knew she cherished, perhaps most in the world, and Ira had been unable to provide any of the golden nectar to take on her new journey. It wouldn't sit right with her, so after buying her time and a world of patience, the High Queen returned to the singular marked grave with a chunk of bark she had managed to scrape off a trunk as her vessel.

“May the barriers of our worlds not yet be sealed...and if they have, know I tried.” The simple prayer was spoken just beneath her breath as she picked up the bark and tilted her head to let the nectar drip down onto the soil. She stood to watch as the honey sunk in, the dirt below still loose and freshly upturned. Even after it seemed to be gone she would stand there letting a silence fall over her as she placed the bark chunk next to the stone marker.

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She hadn't particular came to the run despite this longing in feeling ; for it smelled heavily of another pack within the area. As a long-time guard for another, it was a foolish game to even try to loiter around often, much less for a hunt. Though the place was lushed with fauna and flora to the boot — it definitely drew some other wolves into the land. She wondered where that one weirdo went, that Orlaith had met crying over here, and ventured into the borders, or seemingly.. Just appeared, for when she was scavenging around on it's outskirts altogether. 

She mostly spent time lingering about around mountains, plains and forests — there was no goal in mind. She had accepted, and moved on from the banishment that took, and though an anger, rippled into her soul.. She started to let focus shift elsewhere, especially when a few brawling came to the region altogether she found herself unknowingly drawn to it, and reluctant to leave. The wolves were interesting, to say the least, and weren't the same barbaric rogues of blood and flesh that she so knew. 

Eventually though, one or way or another, she'd have to find herself within one. The loner life didn't do justice, the responsibility and the respect that her soul oh-so demanded — she knew within her heart she was a pack-wolf and didn't strive on this wandering loneliness.. But didn't seek one out, just yet. Something was calling her to the peaks of the fates and it bothered her why ; and once she generally got an answer, or was too tired to try and find out more.. It'd be high time for a looking.

There was scents all around, and she couldn't remember if someone invited her — if they did, Orlaith forgot.

But nontheless it seems that season was within a blessing, a greed that was not foreign to Orlaith was the scent of something sweet was wafting to her noise. A drooling in a sense, and a cautious look around if she could just.. Though she knew it was wrong, she also knew wolves in general didn't care much for honey in general, despite one of it's many practical uses. Simply the taste, and the mixture of it with rum itself! Most though, didn't see the same desire as she did.

She wouldn't hunt in it, but by the Gods was she looking around for that scent.. Only to see a wolf in the distant, where smell momentarily failed — was someone letting the honey fester into the dirt itself until it disappeared as so. What a waste, she so thought.

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She had done what she came to do and so once she saw her task complete, Ira would stand to leave. Parting words sat on her lips as she turned to venture towards the edges of Ullarcraig where the forest thinned and stretched into sky-reaching rock...only, once she turned the roan woman found herself rooted in place. Though she was distant, her shape and coloring were unmistakable. Not when she had lived by her side for so many moons. Not when she had dragged her body to rest beneath the very grave she now stood by. It was impossible, wasn't it? Never did she think she might see a spirit, but now she had no other explanation for the woman who stared back.

Was this what was meant by the elders when they spoke of communication through the stones? She had taken the explanation of their traditions figuratively not literally. Though if Orlaith truly stood before her, she no longer had words for the woman, unsure what even there was left to say. An apology? A thank you? A 'what the hell are you doing here and not in Valhalla?' No, none felt right to say so instead she would only stand and stare much like a stone sentinel. Perhaps this way she would at least get to watch her leave on her own terms.

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Renewed in flesh and soul, all scars obtained in the previous life had vanished — as she was blessed with a new body. Even if there was some small scars underneath from her homeland, it was nothing to be seen. Once had a few, now were all gone ; as so the memories of a life that she had, and would never know. The only connection that the souls seemed to intertwine was the mountain that strangely called to her. A desire for it's peaks to scream to the heavens though, rather then try to take a claim. An unfortunate twist though, that those same mountains were claimed by an unknown pack.

The one before her smelled directly like the borders — a tall woman of a serious expression, that some reason was directly to herself. Yet there was no agggression that came forward that she thought may appear. After all, these grounds smelled so heavily of one she was expecting to be chased off ; how fortunate, whoever owned wasn't so cruel to simply ward off a passerby.

That's been in the area a bit too many times, maybe, like once or twice. Whose counting?

Somewhat disturbed though how she stood in a silence, just staring, as Orlaith was staring back, "Uh, hey?" Though she at least hoped it wasn't some delayed action of being chased off — but she was also ready to throw down if this came to be. Wasn't that much of a dick to go after someone within their own grounds, only if the other started it.

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The spirit stared back though she too refused to move eventually opting for words instead. Ira's brows furrowed as her head barely turned in confusion. “You are not leaving?” What reason did she have to stay? Surely not unfinished business. Orlaith may have been brash enough to hold a grudge, but there had been nothing noteworthy that she knew of to tie her to this realm. “Valhalla surely offers more for one like yourself than the shackles of wolves.” With paws like lead, the High Queen found herself rooted in place despite her desire for a closer look. It was almost as if one step would make her disappear too soon.

Even with the distance though she could see the Gods' work. Where once puncture marks gripped her throat now sat thick fur pure and unsoiled by blood. The same could be said for wounds that had long since healed along her face and body.  Though she was still surprised to see the warden so, she knew her body was but a cage to this world, and now with it put to rest her soul stood restored and unmarred. In all honesty, she thought the warriors of Valhalla would wish to keep their scars and the stories they told, but perhaps it was a choice, or simply not needed in such a place. They all would have their stories of honor and glory.

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The woman spoke of Valhalla, the Gods that she knew well from the battlegrounds and never much believed so. She cared not for prayers and rituals, and only thought that one day would she meet the gate of so ; but it seemed as if the wolf suspected she was someone who was entering it. Orlaith took a gander at her body — through a few scuffles since coming to the region nothing in notice that brought her to a death sentence.

God, was this another lunatic? Was this haven attracting freaks? There was already another one only so many days ago spouting nonsense of the dead and monsters while an aggressive sibling came charging on. The taller woman before her though held a face that was not like a loon, like she was speaking at the heart of some sort of confusion and she could only raise a skeptical brow.

"I'm pretty sure i'm too alive to enter those gates."

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Had she lost her way or merely forgotten? More questions bubbled to her lips though the High Queen spoke not of them. Instead, she studied the other's expression for any hint of sarcasm or some attempt at a joke, but there was none even as she inspected her own body. “Surely you jest?” No... She did not know.

“Perhaps memories of death are scant for a better conscious...I have seen your end. A warrior's death amongst the fangs of many. You were brought here to your final home to be lain to rest 'fore you left for grander lands.” Which only brought her back to her original question...why had she not gone yet? Even had she no memories a valkyrie would surely guide the way.

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Did Orlaith have a twin? Surely not. She was an only child, and knew they held no previous litters, nor' any siblings of their own. She could trace her lineage easily to her grandfather, and none particularly looked like herself nor' any packmates she could think of. She thought though not the prettiest, at the very least she held unique colors. Was there some crazy coincidence someone looked like her?

"I think you are mistaking me for someone else," the warrior said, scratching her ear with her leg, "you don't smell like that girl who kept spouting about monsters and death," the biggest difference is she was calm and collected compared to the loons before. It made her feel strange and skeptical against the other — like she really believed that Orlaith was a ghost in some way. She felt more confused, then anything, perhaps a little annoyed by it all.

Why does it seem like danger and death keeps chasing her..?

"I'm as alive as you are." 

But it would be cool if she did die in some badass way at least. That's the dream in an eventual end — but being so young, she had no plans for that to happen just yet. At the very least, she had to prove herself against those bastards in her previous pack that they lost one of their best guards. Prove herself to be of use to someone eventually, at the very least.

She'll make it without those fuckers.

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It would seem her recount rang no bells, though she was surely not mistaken. Few wolves compared to Orlaith's coloring or stature, and despite the lack of scars her body and voice remained the same. “I know well enough to admit when I am wrong,” Whatever crazed woman she spoke of meant nothing to her, but it would not be the first to spout such theories. Strange still that another had confronted her already about such topics... “but I assure you I am not mistaken.”

“Your name is Orlaith. You are a warden both in heart and body. Though stubborn, it could be said your intent is good. You complain about overheating so when you tire you sleep in the open wherever your paws meet the earth. You have a known temper but a weak spot for honey. Now tell me again, have I the wrong wolf or shall I continue?” Her stare would linger almost challenging the woman to question her again. Perhaps she was terribly mistaken, but now there was no denying the person Ira believed to see standing before her. “If you claim all I have said, then I regret to inform you that you no longer stand as alive and well as myself.”

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Wow.

This was fucked up.

Like, really fucked up.

Was someone playing a trick on her? Were those bastards so against thinking that she'd make it out on her own, they threw this ball at her? Obviously so, but when she lifted her head and took a look around, even deeply inhaling — there was no indication of any of those fuckers around. None even upon her pelt, and this woman held a scent that she only recognized from being at this region, nothing like a place she knew of.

This wolf knew way too much about her that'd one would think they were besties, at the very least someone that knew each other. But Orlaith didnt know her, neither her face, smell, or voice was anything that was brought into memories. A horror, really, as her face scrutinized to confusion, anger, overall horror and she just — "Who are you? How do you know me?"

She took another look around, "this is a prank, right? I literally only got here like a few weeks ago from being kicked out of my birth-pack. They're fucking with me one more time, right? Bastards."

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Ah...so that was how it was? Not a memory to mind of how she had come to pass nor the days leading up to it. She had been happy, had she not? In Vanderfell? Perhaps it was mere chance to lose such a large gap...or perhaps...perhaps neither were wrong. The roan woman's features scrunched as she took a slow step forward. Orlaith was clearly on edge now, rather she believed her or not she doubted something. If she was met with no aggression then she would continue her steps to the woman's side.

“I am Ira, High Queen of Vanderfell Woods. You were my warden once.” The moon had not even turned once since their loss, yet here she stood. With a closer eye it was just as Orlaith claimed...here and healthy as any other living wolf. A theory she'd test herself as she'd push her nose into the woman's flank. “This is no prank...” Was it even possible? She had heard wives tales of rebirth of course, but those were babes. Personally, she always believed it to be a weight one could not shed that led to such delusions, but now...Orlaith was no babe either. She was the same as she was before they met.

“It appears you have been given a second chance...or perhaps time to finish what you could not.” Just like a phoenix. How fitting...

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"I'm looking to start a new life." At the point she realized this was not a joke by them, but perhaps a poor twist of fate. The other spoke of such familiarity but Orlaith, didn't know her — or knew of the life she claimed. She didn't know Vanderfell, or being a warden of her flock, much less of the supposed 'ghost' that she may be. She was not some sort of spirit, verified as she actually let the other touch her to assume so.

She would rather not have someone going around telling others she was a ghost. Some were superstitious, and the guardian didn't want to be chased by some who wanted to exorcist her. Though at the very least Orlaith calmed down a bit, taking a deep, deep breath.

"Hi, i'm Orlaith, i'm not dead, or know you, or anyone in this land, i'm a stranger." She said with an oddly prideful look, while lifting her head with a 'charming' smile. Surely in another moment she'd do a hair-flip, but unfortunately she was of fur then long-hair that of a human. At the very least, she held confidence to who she was, and wasn't going to back down to whoever.. The other was.

Who strangely had similar traits.

Honestly she was kinda freaked out and trying not to think about it too hard, knowing it's not a prank. So, decided to mentally push it aside and pretend it didn't exist.

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“And what might that new life entail?” To return to the one she unknowingly left? That would be...difficult to explain. Especially for her children...but Orlaith had been valuable aside from when she stoked the flames too often. Though she appeared the same, there was clearly something now different. Ira never knew of her past to compare notes, but at the very least she did not let the flames consume her. Not yet at least...Perhaps she would be better. More behaved and reliable. The warden they needed in times of strife.

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Orlaith looked at her with a raised brow, almost as if she was relaying a 'duh,' kind of moment at Ira, "Aren't most, if not all wanderers, looking for a pack to serve?" Though she could respect loners who didn't wish to remain in a group — Orlaith lowkey thought of them as losers, even if some were cool. There wasn't a really specific reason why she did, just somewhat dubbed them into that title. And she, definitely wasn't settling on being one of them. She didn't like this wandering life, especially if she wandered into a land that was trying being claimed.. Didn't want to continually strive into fights.

Though she did like fights, the woman rather not have a barrage of wolves on her ass. Either to defend herself or upon good fun.. Though she wouldn't easily admit some of the fights that she recently started were because of herself, but not all of them! Only some. She was too proud to really admit defeat either way, if someone were to show dominance toward her within the wilds. At the very least she was grateful not to meet any of those wackos trying to start their own gang.

Wannabe leaders.

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“Perhaps. You would be surprised.” More oft than naught, the wanderers in the Run were merely passing through. Either their ideals lay elsewhere or they were just travelers in no search of a home. “Though you do not remember, you were welcomed once before and I have no reason to deny you once more. If any pack will do then Vanderfell would have you. That being said, I spoke more of your ideals.” She supposed it was rather like Orlaith to care little so long as she could do as she pleased...within reason.

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"You offering your pack?" A look of surprise briefly crossed her face with a mix of skepticism. Didn't the other just thought she was dead? Though at the very least she proved not to be — but the other was darn right determined she was that person. Kinda strange, kinda something she'd get over with — because for all she really knew that she had relatives that were kicked out just like she was. It wasn't the first time they removed wolves, but their next turn had included herself. Something, she wouldn't forgive.

Though.. This was the first pack that possibly offered. Some, she met, but they were grunts then anything — nor' offering a place to stay. She wasn't too keen to march up to someone and demand they let her in ; mostly because she wasn't really sure how. Orlaith didn't know how to do it nicely, or even without seeing like she was desperate, weak.

Lowkey was waiting for someone due to her pride..

But this one was awfully suspicious. Yet a High Queen! Could be a work-around by the Gods themselves, at least, Orlaith was lowkey pushing her mind to. It was freaking her enough out that'd she rather place something within the gaps to make it make more sense. Yet enough with a pulling toward the mountain peaks, it was suspicious enough something was at play.

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“That is what I just said, is it not?” Ira would merely raise a brow at the question. Dead, alive, it mattered little if she still had a body of flesh to ground her to this plane. A vessel was all she needed to live amongst the living, the mortal...though now she could only question if for some reason Orlaith never was. She had never seen the woman offer prayer to gain the Gods' favor, yet here she stood. Then again, the Gods would always work in mysterious ways and who was she to question their will? “So, what have you?”

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There was some hesitance, as how all freaky it all was. Yet she didn't want to continue remaining as a loner — she was honestly getting sick of wandering around without an aim. She didn't like not having a purpose, wasn't within her nature. Wasn't within her nature to even try and start a pack either — she was not into the politics or the entire leadership of it all. Definitely a follower ; with some additions to it.

"Sure," but might as well bite the hook. At the very least she can deduce if it was all some crazy coincidence, or the other was truly insane. Not like she had anything else looking forward to do, or planned. Who else would really offer a paw to some stranger? Especially a leader?

Take the chance, figure out rest later.

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short wrap ick

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Ira would nod at her acceptance and after giving a quick glance to the fresh grave would turn to lead Orlaith to the mountain. “Then I will tell you our ways and show you the land.” Maybe somewhere along the lines she would strike a buried memory. If not, well, she would have to learn of Vanderfell one way or another.

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