ice and stone

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He was high upon the mountain this day, where snow still fell despite the weather below being slightly too warm for such things. Somehow, the substance that fell from the sky dampened the world, made it softer in a way. It gave him a sense of peace in a way few things did, his head tipped back, eyes closed as he stood upon the mountain and soaked it all in.

How long the man stood, buffeted by the wind and covered in the snow, he couldn't have said, but it wasn't until a voice broke all that soft silence that those maroon eyes opened to the morning light. Head turning, the gold crested male let his body follow, and ventured down from his mountain. Maroon eyes noted the pale feathers of his avian companion above him, leading the way with easy and graceful flaps of white wings.

It took him some time, but he arrived all the same, head and tail at an easy but appropriate level to one of his rank; it was nothing overtly arrogant or aggressive, simply second-nature. Coming to a slow stop in front of the wolf painted with colors of the night, Stjörnuáti would push his ears forward and glue dark eyes to his face, waiting for the man to state his intentions and the reason for his call. Here, on his territory, the Northerner would let others do the talking and explaining.

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No nonsense. Stjor appreciated such a concept, as he was the same, generally speaking. He knew that it would be a trait his brother would welcome as well, though perhaps not some of the women that roamed the mountains, the ones not of northern stock. Briefly, his memories flashed the image of the female standing over the baby bird, remembering how quickly she’d risen to anger at him for the very same thing.

“What skills do you bring?” He would ask easily, voice low and graveled. Wolves of the lazy sort would not find any welcome here and while this one did not look to be as such, Stjornuati would wait for the man’s answer instead of assuming.
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A wolf not unlike himself. His skills would be a boon to them, surely, especially if it brought them another vigilant and present man to guard the borders. It was a big mountain, after all, and the more bodies to keep it safe, the better. And yet, the stareater did not jump to welcome him into the fold just yet. He was in no rush, and would not arbitrarily make a decision when there was still more to be discussed.

“Your galla. Mm. How you say? Flows? Flaws. Your flaws.” A flick of his tail; irritation at himself, his grasp on the common tongue still imperfect. Though, it was not necessarily a skill he tried to improve either. Were @Valmúa present, perhaps she would have chewed upon his ear for his lack of care about the language.
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“Mm.” An answer that was exactly what he asked for. Stjörnuáti was liking this man more and more with each passing minute, and ultimately leaned into the idea of accepting him into their fold. The interview was not done quite yet, however.

“Meanness not always bad. Needed at some times.” An acknowledgement of his personality flaw, before he dove into his next question. “You are good at taking instruction? Learning, following, but supporting also?”

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All good answers.

“We are Hrafnsvaktin. There are certain rules which you learn over time. Protect our own, always; no mercy to any that challenge or threaten our own. Do not talk of the mountain; only should another seek to join.” A flick of his tail occurred before the Northerner took a step back and let his posture relax a touch further.

“This one is Stjörnuáti af Stormskýli. Come. This one will show mountain to you.”

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Bartel. The name etched in the stone walls of his memory. They fell into step with one another, moving inward and up the gradual slope Stjörnuáti had originally come down. “Ja. Icelandic, of most. And Norse if you decide. Others, also but those are most common.

Also, later there will be seiðr ritual. Mmm. Magic? For lacking of word. You must find your name and place within Hrafnsvaktin, after some time.” It wasn't something he'd explained to many yet, but he chose to do so now; it was time to start looking forward to the future, afterall. “Rökkvi er — is other leader. Few others for the moment but in time, more will come.” Besides, it was better to have a few worthy wolves, than many worthless ones.

“Bartel has questions?”

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Stjörnuáti would nod then, a silent answer to the only question the man offered him. They would find one another again very soon, there was no doubt about that.

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