Comfort and numbness

A deer darted along the rocks that nestled into the shallows, pausing to draw in the sounds and scents of this particular stretch of riverbank. Her ears twitched to the river’s song and swivelled to the sound of birds having an argument in the treetops. The place was rife with animal scent - but it was a singular whiff of a wolfish odour that caused the doe to turn on a sixpence, splashing into the shallows.

The wolf in question, Ceana, had been at rest a short way up the grassy slope that hugged the river. It was the splash of the doe taking a flying leap into slightly deeper water that woke the slumbering she-wolf. Her eyes scrunched before they opened, the dusty blues blinking rapidly as Ceana’s broad muzzle lifted and she let out a long sigh. By the time she had enough awareness to bring the world into focus, the doe was nothing but the sparkle of disturbed water in her wake.

There was a heady smell in the air: woodsy and sharp, yet familiar. Comforting - until Ceana made sense of the shapes and colours around her. She was beside a river, her nose was stinging - thanks to the myriad of musks thickening the air - and, most importantly, she had not the first inkling where she was.

Ceana’s limbs flexed gently, methodically, testing for any pangs her body might offer in protest. There was no pain. She was uninjured. That was a blessing. But something was very, very wrong.

Her head tilted back and she scowled at the clear blue above. Falling asleep in the middle of the day wasn’t like Ceana, and in such a vulnerable position; if the scents were anything to go by, this place was rich with prey. It was all wrong.

Huffing, Ceana hauled herself into a standing position and grimaced at the day’s brightness. She took a few steps - relievingly steady steps - and something soft bumped gently against her chest. It was a leaf rolled around some herb or other. It hung from her neck, wafting that familiar scent around the displaced woman. It was that scent, that pouch, that kept Ceana from crumbling as fruitless questions rippled through her mind - but right now, it felt like a noose.

This wasn’t Ceana’s homeland, her world, her life. She was keenly aware that she had another life - one not yet lived to its conclusion.

Turning away from the thoughts vying for space in her brain, Ceana ambled over to the rocks peeking from the shallows. With a faint growl, she arched and twisted her neck every which way - but it was no good. The loop around her neck seemed to be staying put.
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A startled deer had caught her attention. Sometimes they tended to graze about, and if she left them alone, they tended to remain at peace. Yet it jumped and ran away as if something was near, a predator that scared so was usually the cause and had Orlaith on a high-guard. The run was a place that many ventured to for it's lushed ways, blessed in not only prey itself but herbs ; a home that any would adore to take, which gave a better reason to guard so.

The scent of wolf was upon the wind, and Orlaith heard faint growling, which she too matched with her own growl, "Halt," would the woman call out, yet to see the fiend who laid by the river, "you are on the Vanderfell hunting grounds." but she was approaching.

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A growl sounded - an instruction - and suddenly Ceana had a new primary reason to want the loop around her neck gone: the herbs, while they could be incredibly useful, were muddying the waters of the scents around the lone wolf. Before (though Ceana couldn’t remember where before had taken place), Ceana would have known the sharp herbal scent would impede her ability to identify other scents; she wasn’t known for having dull senses.

But here… here, Ceana wasn’t known for anything, to anyone.

Ceana did as she was bid, lowering her head away from the rocks and stepping out of any cover they might’ve provided.

“I apologize,” she called out flatly, “I do not know where this place is - or that it has been laid claim to. I woke up beside the river. I was.. Elsewhere, before.”
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As she rounded the corner, Orlaith caught sight of the stranger who ventured, or awakened, within the run. Her tail rose up, upon a guard despite what seeminglessly innocent the other takes — light within within appearance but by no means a dainty woman with heavier weight proportions. Yet unfamiliarity took hold as she gazed at what was around their neck, not something she knew but looked like an entanglement of vines.. But, not? She didn't know what it was, but it ensnared the other.

Orlaith approached with her head high, tail flickering lightly, "You are in Vanderfell Woods territory, ruled by the High Queen Ira and High King Hieronymus." and raised a brow, "but you say you just awoke here?"

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The other wolf came into view like a cloud of smoke enveloping glimpses of fire. Ceana’s gaze flickered away not long after taking in her massive form, held high and proud; she knew enough to know that a confrontation now, in an unfamiliar land, would spell disaster - for Ceana, at least. Despite the scant memories she’d retained, she knew her limits.

The smoke-and-fire stranger spoke, proud and clear, naming the pack that held this area and its leaders. Ceana, gaze averted, acknowledged this with a sharp nod.

“Yes, I woke up here with only a handful of memories - ones I can’t pull into focus. I don’t know where I was before - only that I was somewhere else.” Head lowered, Ceana gazed pointedly at the herbs around her neck. “I know this scent. I knew this scent.” She let out a short sigh, her brow creasing in frustration. “But that is all I know - that, and my name: Ceana Asphodel.” 

“I had no wish to be here, nor to trespass.”
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Perhaps some pity, and sympathy ; to not remember something but feel that it is familiar. Although Orlaith could relate, just as everyone knew her within Vanderfell, she could not remember that. Rather it all was just a feel of longing and wanting, a knowing that the peaks called to her that led her stay within the ranks despite feeling so.. Outside-like, as many stare at her as a ghost and even avoid. But who was she to deny that primitive calling that felt so strongly?

Maybe her's was herbs, as silly as Orlaith thought it was, "Wolves who end up here resort to two choices — to stay and join, or to leave," she said, gazing at the wrapping around her neck, "but either way you look to need help unraveling. You seem stuck." Although wariness and a desire to push the other out ; she couldn't really do that if she happened to be stuck by that arrangement.

Either way, she was doing her job, to escort the other out, or to call for the High Royals.

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Ceana’s ears pricked at the words end up here, her brow furrowing. Was that a hint that she wasn’t alone in finding herself in this place involuntarily? She would muse on that later, when lapsing into a lengthy, contemplative silence wouldn’t risk causing trouble.

Regardless of how she’d ended up here, the towering stranger had offered the newcomer a choice: stay, and join the pack who presided over this territory, or leave for - well, who knew where, or what?

Ceana glanced, again, to the herbal pendant nestled by her throat, flashing a grimace.

“It would appear that I am stuck - in more ways than one, perhaps.” Stuck here, in this new world; stuck with a mind that couldn’t summon concrete memories of her previous life.

“You are generous to offer me a choice - some wouldn’t,” Ceana acknowledged. She was hesitant to pledge herself to this Vanderfell Woods, knowing so little about them - but at least she hadn’t been chased out on sight. She needed to reach some kind of acceptance of this predicament - wishing away whatever time she had here would be wasteful.

“I assure you, I can contribute - if your leaders judge me to be worthy.”
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"Yeah? Vanderfell is generally chill, you have a habit of becoming utterly loyal once entering," she so chuckled, stepping closer, sniffing lightly at the barrage of herbs and otherwise issues stuck along her neck, "I'll call for my Queen, yeah? She can judge or not." Her more harsh demeanor fallen lightly as the other had no prone of hostilities, or purposeful enrouchment on the territory. Rather knowing as well there was an interest in finding herself among their ranks ; all the more to drop such a guard.

Orlaith raised her snout, calling @Ira or the High King, @Hieronymous. It was one of non-urgency, not one that needed comrades to fight, but more of someone curiously interested in Vanderfell ; at least, somewhat. She said she can contribute, but that was not for her ears alone to listen to — as it wasn't her command of allowance.

While waiting for one or the other to descend from the mountains and into the crag, the warrior bent down to help, her teeth rugging through the fines and snapping as they go. Orlaith didn't really ask permission to do so, but since she was stuck.. Might as well.

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minor pp!

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The roan queen had been stretching her legs when she heard the call. The beckons came from further down the mountains amongst the grassing woodlands they hunted from. There were few reasons for herself or Hieronymous to be called, and though it was becoming more frequent these days, she could fathom a guess or two the reason for her summons. By the time she reached the run, she would see Orlaith teeth deep in strange vines at the neck of a stranger.

The woman was pale and appeared to be unharmed despite her...strange decor tangled about her throat. Given that the Vanir had her back to her, Ira would look to the other woman for an explanation. It was possible she required help, but if that was the case Orlaith would have likely dealt with her herself...as she was currently doing. That left the next two likely options: messenger or recruit. “What brings you?”

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The pack wolf stepped closer and Ceana, for half a second, tensed as if she might retreat - but where was she going to go? The other female’s guarded front seemed to have been swayed to friendlier tones after Ceana expressed interest in joining the Vanderfell pack, which was something of a relief - it at least made it less likely that things would become unfriendly.

Ceana tilted her head back to allow the other access to the viney wrappings around her neck, though everything in her screamed that her throat could be removed in one strike. She was making herself vulnerable - a rarity for Ceana, from what she knew about herself. Maybe it would work in her favour when the King or Queen arrived.

“Thank you,” she muttered - quite possibly a little too late for it to be meaningful.

The tangles were loosening, little by little, when an athletic figure arrived. Ceana acknowledged this new female with an attempt at a nod, but was reluctant to move too much given her current predicament. Every slight shift of her limbs made the herbal scent waft up her nose - and the first glimpses of a picture began to gravitate toward each other in her mind.

She knew this herb - not just its scent but its name: Rosemary.

“I apologise for the intrusion on your hunting grounds,” Ceana murmured. “I awoke here with few memories of where I was before, with only this herb tied around my neck -” Angling her head to one side, Ceana directed her gaze to the sprig of Rosemary and the leafage it was wrapped in. “Unfortunately, I was tethered.”

“I’m Ceana Asphodel. I do not know where I’ve come from but I would like to move forward; to settle in a new home.” What choice did she have? Ceana wasn’t the type to languish in longing. “I believe I could be loyal to that home - and I would like the opportunity to repay the help your pack mate has offered me.”

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pp is fine :)
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“You have committed no crime.” If she had, Orlaith would have surely dealt with it or used a far less mellow call. All she could see was a woman entangled with plants passing through... Ira let her gaze sweep over the rest of the woman as she continued with a story that matched many others. She was another who had awoken, or so it seemed. Ullarcraig had a nasty habit of stranding individuals, though perhaps it was another fortune for Vanderfell to receive. They were rather reclusive all things considered, but fresh blood was needed one way or another.

This one spoke promising words, but any could say they would be loyal to a theoretical home. It did not speak to why Vanderfell was the correct fit. The High Queen would glance once more to Orlaith as she finished her task at hand before putting her full attention on Ceana. “Likewise, your weight would be appreciated...” They were sparse in adults and most filled low ranks. If this woman wished to be as dedicated as she suggested then perhaps she would be one of the few to stand out. “What talents might you bring to Vanderfell? If you are to live here you are expected to pull your weight and provide for the pack with whatever skills you best.”

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After a short while, Ceana was freed from the floral bonds and the wrapped sprig of Rosemary fell softly to the ground. 

The Queen asked what Ceana could bring to the pack and Ceana’s brow furrowed in thought. She stared at the herb, hoping its familiarity might spark something else; some memory clear enough to demonstrate that Ceana had skills at all. Something did spark - but would it be enough?

“If you’ll indulge me for a moment, your Highness.”

She bent her head and forelegs and nudged the bunch of herbs towards Vanderfell’s leader.

“This herb is rosemary. Where I was before - I think it was a herb that aided memory. Apt, perhaps, since it’s all I remember at present.” She straightened, shaking out her ruff to settle the fur that had been disturbed by the viney necklace. “A few moments ago I could not recall its name or its meaning. It would be foolish to assume all my memories will come flooding back at once - but I think I was a herbalist. I feel.. drawn to the flora of this world, as if it was a part of me.”

She shook her head, which was beginning to ache from the strain of trying to clutch at faint memories.

“I can work hard; I can hunt; I can guard your borders - but as for my niche, I have no solid memory of a particular talent - yet.” Ceana’s head lowered, an effort to hide the frustration in her gaze. “I realise this is not a glowing summary of how I could contribute to Vanderfell. That’s the last thing I can offer: honesty.”
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After she freed the other, conversation between the High Queen and the new wolf continued. The conversation was such a bore though, that Orlaith remained unusually silent and held back as the two conversed. From what she did grab though, they were of the medical powess, but that was even more of a bore for a warrior who held only muscles for brains.

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continue to be skippable!

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The roan woman fell silent as the other began to explain. It seemed based on the state of the other's memory that she must have only awoken recently...perhaps in these very woods. She wouldn't be the first to find themselves at her doorstep and it was likely she would not be the last. Ideally, Ira would want a recruit to be confident in their abilities and what they can offer, but it was not as if Ceana was without anything. She was willing and potentially retained knowledge of herbology...

Ever since Quicksilver left for Shiroshika they had been without a healer. What little she knew would be beneficial to the pack at the very least. “Very well.” She may have no set path, but she was ready to carve one. That would be enough for the High Queen for now. “Do as you have promised and Vanderfell will house you. We are a place of growth. Should you find your knowledge waning there is room to choose a new path. Until then I expect you to find what you know and keep stock.” It was better than nothing and at least this way she could indirectly test the woman's knowledge and see how much she truly could provide.

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