sunday morning rain is falllin

for the fam any welcome @Ragnar @Elentari @Asgeir @Aslaug

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Days like this made her body ache more than usual. The cool brought in by the rain chilled her bones, robbing it of the warmth she had become accustomed to with the spring-summer air. She couldn't help but shiver, even as she curled up against herself, still bearing the remnants of her winter pelt.

The land here was no different than the one they had left — at least, in that there were no new rules or things beyond comprehension. Everything here was perfectly mundane, and yet foreign and untraced in their collective consciousness. Ynness huffed from under the mountainside shrub. While she was left somewhat dry by the new foliage blooming from the thin twigs, a stray droplet had rolled out onto her nose. She blinked rapidly for a moment as she inadvertently sprayed the liquid into her face, only to relax once more, her head on paws in a moment of peace, even as her lower half throbbed dully within end.
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Their reaches had lengthened much already, Ragnar and his bloodline moving forward into time, outward across the forests and mountains. Southward, westbound. Now they had reached up and around the mountain chain they had been following. Still, this place was very new to them all. Settlement yet to be made, ally and trade yet to be had.

In the falling rain the new father strode, furs wet, clumped, distinguishing his longer hairs with beard and goatee. He comes to his daughter, head low, to speak to her under the mountain side's little overhang. “The cold draws out your pain...” He muses the obvious with a hum, “Do you fear it?”
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She knows the man approaching her, even water drenched. Ynness greets her father with a chuff, and the thump of her tail.

He gives no formal greeting, and instead speaks to her. She looks up at her father, an accusation in her eyes. A test? Of what, her will? “Why should I?” she almost snaps the words, physical and mental pain leeching into her speech. “It will come no matter what I do.” She mutters these, the anger draining. It was truth, and yet it stabbed at her being with brute force.
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A smile to his daughter, who greets happily despite her discomfort. “Yes, it will.” He draws, lifting his head up and out, to look over the stormy skies before back down to her. “It is likely, you will feel the annoying ache and weight of it until the day you die.”

He licks the waters gathered at the end of his chin and shakes out his wet coat to leave spikey wild blonde hairs sticking out in every direction. “But you've a strong heart and will prevail from it. I feel in my own heart this to be so.” He waits, wondering if she might reject his belief with a retort. It was hard to believe herself one day to be successful and Ragnar could not very well explain the feeling in his heart and bones.
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Ragnar confirms her worries rather than soothes them, reinforces the whispers that were present in every waking moment. Ynness frowned, whatever deference she had in the face of her father disappearing. “Great.” His words afterwards did little to uplift her. You'll get over it, was what she heard. As if that were ever possible, when she was constantly reminded — either from the pain or the movement of her contemporaries — of her failure. Her stupidity. “Sure.”
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She was not pleased with him and it shown by the deepened frown on her expression. Ragnar would not lie to his daughter, even if it meant making her feel better about life. He would not tell her she would be okay, that time would mend all wounds. What she now suffered was not fixable and she would either learn to live with with it or wallow in sorrows from it. He hoped the latter would not be the case for his child.

So, for the time being, Ragnar dropped the subject and moved forward. “What is it you would like in a home, Ynness?” He asks as he moves forward and around, to settle next to her and the shrub she sheltered herself under.
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She wondered what her father was getting at. He was trying to help, wasn't he? She didn't want to be coddled just as she didn't want to be told to suck it up. Gods, she didn't even know what she wanted. “Plenty of food to eat.” That was easy. Stupid. Of course someone would ask for that. “People to fight.” Sparring helped her forget. In battle there was no time for overthinking or worrying. Even with her leg gone she still had her teeth, and with those she could hurt someone else, give them pain instead of being bombarded with it.
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Failed a little hardcore here...

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A smirk on his lips, he nods to her obvious first bit. High up on Th Wall where they once had lived, finding food to eat was a bit harder. On one side of the wall there wasn't much to go off of and the drop off unto the ocean waters on either side of the mountain chain was not an easy navigation. They had to hunt south of the mountains into the forests and plains, a bit away from their charge. While Ragnar enjoyed the high snowy peaks and the crashing of waves, he had a means of finding a more hospital, beautiful Northern region to call home.

“There will be plenty to fight off to protect our new claim, I'm sure. Making a place your own is not easy work.” He pauses, looking away from his daughter and our unto the forestry around them. “I hope for us to grow too, beyond just our own blood. Everyone will need to learn to fight and practice well.” He knew his daughter's pent up aggression even before her accident. Getting others to romp with beyond her siblings would give her something to focus on.
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It wasn't what she wanted. It never was, she thought. Advice, for what? She knew what was expected from claiming land, had been drilled with that in mind her whole life, and yet he patronized her with his words all the same. She bristled slightly. She couldn't round on her father, no matter how angry she got with him. Where would she go if he had cast her out? So she swallowed it, redirecting it. “Have you met other packs around here?” She hoped that he would think that she was looking for potential threats, instead of just changing the subject.
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She was angry with him, angry with the world and yet her mistakes should have been only the anger of her own mistakes. He sighs, a hard line forming in an expression left disappointment and unsettling. Her turn of subject did not go past her father unnoticed. One day, her rage would be used in a manner that would strengthen them all. Today was not this day.

“Besides Ira's Vanderfell, I have not.” He speaks flatly, going along with her change. “Though I did speak to a woman who had traveled from the north. She says the tundra is quiet, open for the taking.” They would not know for certain. Not until they made it there. “So get up off your ass and let's go.” He demanded then with a wrinkle of his nose made by a sneer to his littlest shit of his little shits. The Stormborn father begins off then, Ynness in tow or not.
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The name is vaguely remembered in her head, its location somewhere in the mountains. It frustrated her; why didn't they know more about their neighbors? Was it just, as he said, that there were little others, or was there something else? She was dubious, her previous ire bleeding into her thoughts.

Ynness huffs at his words, affecting something like mock amusement, though her heart wasn't really in it. She stares after him, a storm brewing in her chest. Something dark flashes then, an image of herself, her teeth at her father's neck, ripping and tearing—

She shakes her head, horrified. Without another word, or even without thinking, she rises and follows after him.
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