✧˖°.~ just by looking at stars

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The grace of the gods was fickle, as was their anger. To date, Katja had not truly suffered either; or perhaps she had, the sins of whatever past lives she might have had invisibly marked upon her via her... condition. Her curse. She had wondered why so many times as a child, when Father would explain something she couldn't do because of it, when she would get frustrated with her accidents, when he had to take her to see Quicksilver. 

It was not a question to her any longer. The die had been cast when she was born and Katja had long since stopped wanting what could have been. The gods had decided her fate and that was that. But while she did not question her fate, she did question this one's...

Seaglass eyes had been watching her since her appearance, lounging near the stream in a spot of sun-dappled shade. Such things were not uncommon, but it had been a while since a wolf had awoken within their territory. Still, she did not rush to chase the girl out, did not seem even the slightest bit perturbed at the thought of her presence here. The War Lord simply waited and watched until she saw the stirrings of life, the questions in her eyes. 

“You have woken,” She said finally, voice even, unconcerned. “I was beginning to think I might nap as well.” The smallest smile. “Do not be alarmed. Many wake in these lands as you just have.”

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You watch me sleep?

Katja could only provide a wry smile at the accusation. Why would anyone watch someone sleep? It was boring, not to mention odd. Katja may have been physically broken, but she did like to think that other than that she was fairly normal. Fairly.

“Yes and no. You appeared out of thin air -- quite literally, might I add -- a few minutes ago. Since then, yes, I have been watching you.” Her head tilted slightly, pushing one ear forward while the other swiveled to listen around them. The sound of the brook, a soft undertone to their abnormal conversation. “Would you not do the same?”

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Katja let the other female work through everything at her own speed, watching each one of them with a certain curiosity. Perhaps it was because her life had been so structured all her life that she did not allow herself to be anything but structured, even when it came to her emotions. To see such raw feelings, even unbidden, pass across her face was interesting. Intriguing. So was the way she seemed to understand what the Boesch wolf was saying, but could not speak in similar sentences. Was it just that she was waking up? Or something else?

“Katja Boesch,” She would answer. “Military Advisor of Vanderfell Woods.” Unless asked, Katja would not treat the other as anything other than what the wolf of blue roan already knew: That she was smart enough to understand everything she'd said so far. Why dumb it down on assumption? Easier, better to assume that the woman was smart as a whip and just happened to be disoriented at the moment.

“Unfortunately, no. I do not know you. I will still offer whatever help you may need, however.” They were all of the same great cloth, after all. If the roles were reversed, Katja was sure she would have appreciated the same. Everyone was different, however.

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There was so much behind those eyes. So much soul, so much intelligence. Katja could see it churn, see it swirl, as if it were a splash of color across a face of water. There was so much that went missed simply because someone wasn't watching; Katja watched. Katja watched and took in all of it, letting each moment drop into the pond and freeze, layer by layer, forever ingrained in her memories.

Tove. A curious name. She had never heard it before, nor anything else like it — the same with the language that Tove spoke. Everything that followed the word "lost" sounded like gibberish to the young woman, her ears pitching forward in rare curiosity. She had not heard a brand new language in a very, very long time. Not since she was young and visiting Shiroshika at the behest of her father, so that @Quicksilver could tend to her wounds.

A roll of her shoulders came in what could have been a shrug. “Because I can. We offer help willingly here, so long as you do not leech.” Vanderfell had helped many wolves out in similar form under her parents rule, and beneath @Runar's it was no different. “You don't seem like a leech to me, hm?” She gave a small smile, meant to be reassuring.

“Can you remember anything?”

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Not leech.

The vehemence of that statement caught the young woman off guard and she laughed suddenly, her tail sweeping the ground behind her once or twice. A nod accepted this statement of Tove’s with no challenge, no skepticism. In that singular moment, Katja decided her judgement had passed; Tove had earned the council member’s favor and backing.

Standing from her spot finally, the Boesch girl stretched, her muscles pulling with a delicious tension before releasing.

“You aren’t the only one who wakes with no memory. With some, it comes back over time. Others never remember.” Perhaps she could have said it softer, in a way that might not have sounded as alarming, but Katja was not, and had never been, one to mince words. “Regardless, you can stay here as long as you need. We are a pack known as Vanderfell Woods. My brother, Runar, leads us.”

A moment of silence and then: “Are you hungry?”

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