coming home

 

Against the golden light the sun cast over the vale, Vahaelarr’s slate pelt glistened with the charm of the land. Having departed from Gjalla’s side only days ago, the wolf had been more than hesitant to part ways with the wolfess. Time had not been kind to the both of them, and it was not his companion that he worried for; it was himself. Still unsure of the lands which he traversed, the soil felt wrong beneath his scraped paw pads. He longed for the bittersweet chill of a morning frost, the lingering coldness of the snow as it melted into his dark fur. Vahaelarr’s frame wore the stories of a life spent scaling mountains and surviving harsh winters, one shoulder bearing a scar resembling the score of a mighty Elk’s antler. 

It was not green valleys and oak forests where the wolf returned home to, yet, he did not deny himself of the curiosity that peaked him as he ventured through the calling vale. Gjalla had tasked him with seeking out a place where the two of them might call home; a haven. Vahaelarr was not one to deny the frozen spitfire, and it was here he found himself shortly thereafter -- the edges of Sundered Roost. 

He dared not travel any further into the territory and risk triggering the immune response of the residents within, preferring his hide left unbitten, and thus settled along the edges of the territory, eyes scouring the green expanse as the evening waned on. He made no attempt to hide, no attempt to be obscured; when the wolves came, he would be known.

---

@Savan 

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“You! ” her voice was strident as it called across the quiet edges of the vale. Authoritative and powerful, Savan held no qualms commanding anyone around, though her brother and Tove might have been the rare exceptions. The starbound female approached from behind the stranger, icy eyes narrowed as she return from her small excursion to discover the intricacies of the lands around them. Her head and tail were high, her stride purposeful as she beelined straight for him.

“What do you want?” She would demand from him as she rounded and came to a stop in front of him, putting herself between the Roost and those within and him. Savan was no sweet thing; her seed-donor had seen to that, stripping her of her innocence and her life. Her scarred face was set in a stony countenance, eyes boring into his own. She expected an answer, and she expected it now.
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A stillness fell over the vale, a calm that promised serenity and peace. All throughout the lush greenery of the roost, potential made itself clear in the very roots of the land. There was strength in the valley, security in the tall mountains that surrounded and protected the vale from outside threats. Vahaelarr’s eyes spread far over the ever expanding landscape, drinking in all that was to be seen to the naked eye; intrigue swirled in whirlpools throughout the lilac gaze of the wolf. If it had not been for the alerting cry of the black crow that circled overhead, a vigilant scout for Vahaelarr, he might’ve just been spooked out of his fur by the approaching wolfess. 

Her words, as harsh as a bite from her jaws, brought the sleet colored Knight’s ears to an alarmed perk, swiveling in her direction before he had the chance to. His body turned halfways before his eyes connected with the steely ones she wore, and his tail immediately lowered from its once naturally aloft position, offering the stranger body language that reflected his intentions: he was no threat, nor intended to be one. So long as she didn’t make him one. 

"Rytsas wolfkin.” — Greetings wolfkin. Vahaelarr’s head slowly bowed in greeting, and a half bow of courtesy, calling on the Highborn curtsy instilled in him from the time he could stand on his own four paws. There was a natural hostility scrawled across the bristling frame of the wolfess, and looking for no trouble, Vahaelarr was quick to take a brief step backwards, an attempt at putting distance between the two of them. If any of her kin came along, he did not wish to come across as a threat. “Vahaelarr.” Offering an introduction, he allowed for a brief pause before continuing, his posture both straightening and stiffening from its bowed position, lifting himself to his full height. “I come seeking refuge for my companion and I.” 

”īlon emagon travelled tolmiot.” — We have travelled far.

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Almost instantly, his demeanor changed and adjusted instantaneously upon her arrival, something Savan took note of. Such acknowledgment of her presence and authority calmed the beast a touch, placating the aggressive creature she had become post-death/rebirth. Savan herself was still learning the extent of that simmering anger that burned through her, but now was seemingly not the time. Yet, anyway.

Her ears flickered forward to catch the tongue of her natal lands, her expression no less hardened, her stance no less protective. Only when the man took a step back did the gaze that seemed cut from glass seem to lose a slight touch of its edge. He gave her a name, and a reason for his presence. One that Savan considered, weighing the possibility on the pendulum of questions that swung between them.

“Savan.

If you are seeking refuge for the two of you, why is it that only you are present?” The starbound girl did not care that they had travelled far. Only that they sought refuge and they were not both standing before her.
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She cast her judgment like cold stones, branding Vahaelarr with a harshness he was not foreign to. He hadn’t expected to be greeted with kindness; no, he knew all too well what these strangers would feel with the likes of him scouting the edges of their protected borders. Wary they were, and wary, they were wise to be. With a careful tilt of his chin upwards, his eyes glowed dimly with something of curiosity. The wolfess was scrawled in the etchings of authority, hackles raised with a dominance that was bitter on his tongue. No doubt, she was of significance in these lands and Vahaelarr would need to tread carefully, words and body molded with a soft respect for the woman and her lands.

But he saw the way, reluctantly, she softened to his presence. He noted it with stride and felt comfortable himself releasing some of the taught tension that kept his frame poised with a silent strength, ready to defend if need be. The threat of attack was never out of the question, but something told Vahaelarr that he need not worry of it here. She responded with an introduction of her own; her name was something of strength, bold on her breath. Vahaelarr couldn’t help the flicker of warmth that flooded his expression, but it was sapped as quickly as it came, replaced with something akin to anxiety as she questioned him. He supposed that speaking of two when there was only one of him had an air of suspicion, and he could only curse himself quietly, before continuing on.

"Nyke urged zirȳla naejot umbagon arlī, awaiting udir. Lo konīr iksin naejot sagon danger, sȳrkta nyke laehurlion ziry mērī than endanger another hae sȳrī." — I urged her to stay back, awaiting word. If there was to be danger, better I face it alone than endanger another as well. He admitted, revealing the wariness he felt in the face of this unknown Pack.

“But I am not one to lead the life of a rogue. I would like to think I am a wolf of honor; that there is no better duty than that to a sovereign.” He continued, this time speaking the common tongue.

Vahaelarr’s chest widened as he inhaled, shoulders thick with strength flaring as he rolled them, attempting to relieve some of the tension that coiled like a snake waiting to strike. From his observations, Savan was not the leader of this Pack — but perhaps, through her, he could meet this individual.

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His explanation was not unreasonable, although Savan would have liked to meet this woman. Was there a reason for him to have his companion wait behind for him? Was she highly dependent on the man? Was she a complete and utter bitch? Could she not hold her own in the event that violence and aggression occurred? All of these were things that crossed Savan's mind, things that made her judgement of the woman cloud her preconceptions of her. Perhaps, not the best move on the man's part, if both were seeking refuge.

And then her internal questions continued. Why was he not cut out for being on his own? Was it his own dependencies? Was it that he was incapable of providing for himself and his companion? Could he not stand to be around her by himself any longer? It was needless to say that Savan had forever been changed by the manner in which her previous life had been cut short; a man that she was to have been able to trust had tortured her mother, in front of his children, and then Savan herself when she'd risen against him.

“What are you capable of? What do you bring to our home and family?” It was the only question that mattered. That and perhaps the following: “How are we to know that you will uphold your honor if something "better" comes along?”

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The northern winds whispered through the pines, carrying the scent of pine needles and warm summer as Vahaelarr stood amidst the golden draped landscape of Velaris. His fur, a blend of slate and ebony, shimmered like a cloak of shadows against the sunlight that beamed across the Vale. He exuded a sense of stoic vigilance, his eyes sharp and attentive, poised upon the wolfess with diligence. 

Savan's words, a flurry of assaulting questions aimed at him, attempting to catch him off guard, to make him slip, fell on prepared ears. While he found her questions peeving, he respected Savan’s intentions; she sought to protect the pride of Velaris, to weed out the weak that might seek to prey off their resources. A warm smile pulled at his lips, eyes burning with a gentle amusement as he looked upon her. “I am a Warrior, and a wise counsellor.” He responded with a curt dip of his head. Written across his frame were the makings of a resilient brute, his frame hardened with strength and the scars of battle--and though his face yelled of youth, there was a swirling intelligence within his lilac eyes. 

“Before I woke up in these lands, I was the Heir to my home.” Vahaelarr’s heart constricted with sorrow as he spoke of Winterhelm, and by extension, his thoughts lingered to his family. To his father, to his mother, to his siblings. “But those days are yore. I do not expect that you will trust my words at face value; no, you’re smart. I see that.” Vahaelarr sighed.

“But my word is all that I can give you.”

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A warrior and a counsellor. Good skills to have, better ones for Velaris to be equipped with. His physique backed up such claims, of course; the warrior one, anyway. Savan could not help but wonder what his brand of 'counselling' was like, thought swiftly decided that she did not care to know. Not yet, anyhow. Not when he provided more pertinent, more important information.

Heir? So he had been destined for a throne. If possible, this impressed Savan even less than everything that had come before. Heirs were often entitled, often expected the world to be handed to them on a silver platter. Would he expect to be waited on? To be cherished and idolized? Vahaelarr claimed those days were past, but could you ever truly set aside the way you grew up?

Finally, Savan spoke, ever more cryptic as she did not show response to anything he had provided of himself. “We are Velaris. We do not look to enable freeloaders or those disloyal. It is not me you need to give your word to; It is all of us, with Faust as our leader. When you are ready to make such a commitment, you will seek Faust out and speak with him.” Would he remain so adamant about joining their ranks?

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She did not trust him, that much was clear. Yet, Vahaelarr knew he had given her no reason not to. It brought a question to meander about the webbings of his mind, one further peaked by the intricate scars that covered the she-wolf's form: What had happened for her to regard strangers with such brazen hostility? The wolf's head ticked upwards, lilac eyes glazed with something akin to indifference, frame squared to the likeness of a stoic Paladin. 

This had suddenly become an interaction Vahaelarr was more than eager to get over with.

“Then I will find him now.” The wolf was definite in his reply, pointed ears pulling upwards with a quiet confidence. “I hope that we may speak again soon, wolfkin.” He offered a smile, warm and pleasant. 

The masculine began a long stroll in the opposite direction of the wolfess, not bothering to cast another glance over his shoulder.

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