stranger danger

there's something in the snow.

wind catches wing as he circles ever lower, the vibrant blue of his gaze fixed, steady, on the blackened speck below. curiosity grasps him by the gizzard as he gradually nears, a grip so warm that it rivals the chill that forever permeates this land. sýnin tucks his wings close, taking the last few feet at a steep downward incline. bleached feet alight upon the snow with the most inaudible of 'puffs,' his light frame inconsiderable enough to not disturb the smooth surface.

for a second, he just sits, breathing cool air in through his nares and out through an open beak. then, with hopping steps, he moves forward, intent.

the thing moves - and the white raven jumps back, a startled croak bursting forth from his throat. it turns, and sýnin's wings flare open with an audible snap. he launches himself into the air without a second of hesitation, panicked caws echoing as he once more swings out in a wide circle around the whatever-it-is. one eye sticks, transfixed, as a canine form rises from the depths of the snow, shaking flakes from its pelt with an abrupt movement that has yet another anxious noise escaping the raven.

sýnin clacks the sharp edges of his beaks together as his momentum takes him back over the stranger, and he calls down, "valdr! wolf! who, who?"

---

rusty writing ew. but! birb is here! why is your character in the snow? idk. you decide lol

the staff team luvs u

The ghost drifted, and the time inexplicably slipped away from her. She leaned headlong into the feeling at first, willfully lost, and with such empty vastness before her--maybe there was some worth in it, and something to find. Irura would hunt endlessly, even if she didn't understand for what, exactly.

Now, sensation crept back into cold, tangible bones. Awareness of her own self returned with it, slow as an icy river. Her breaths stayed shallow still, readjusting. Dimly, she recognized the snow, and the weight of it all around her. The true concern of the circumstance had yet to catch up. Everything seemed like so much... and mustering the energy felt like a feat. What had happened? She found she couldn't dredge up the recollection of anything that answered why.

The raven's noise brought her a sudden startle. She grounded herself on the memory it sparked--the fortress of trees encircling the mountain's foot, the corvids cawing above the treetops as she gains speed after a fresh trail. It's real, the hunter sensed, and she reached out for it.

Slowly, she pulled herself up into a sit, the snow falling away from her as she struggled up and out of her confines. She groaned, and looked for the bird with blinking, bleary eyes. Who? is something she could make out, and likely, it's a good question. The Ijiraq gawked, and shook out her fur--not with enough force to clear everything, but a start. She was almost sure she could recognize this bird--pale and uniquely blue-eyed; that confirmed enough for her. “I.. ah,” she started to answer, her mouth feeling too thick. “Irura,” she finally finds. Irura Ijiraq, once of the ipetam her inner voice recited as the rest of her tried to straighten.

Now, she had come upon other camaraderie, still fledgling in her grand scheme, but she did not intend to lose them: Hrafnsvaktin. “Still Morðfjall, here?” she asked to the white raven, making for a wobbly step away from what she hoped was not meant to be her grave.

the staff team luvs u