come & sing with me the stories;

for @Daighre ♡

---

[narrow width=800]the silver wings her way from those folded falls; puts the offering for both tundrian and valerian huntsmen out of her mind. if it was anything like the henge, then it would be taken by the time she returned at the witching hour. the same could be said for the faun, the crow, and the fireheart who had entered into her company: whether all had decided to stay on or take their leave from the glen, she would not know until she trod back the way she came.

so she scouts ahead — marching out once more beyond the hinter as the skies bleed through what thin, wispful clouds yet remained. fair nose flaring, scenting and mirrorbright eyes keen and watchful for any telltale disturbance that might hopefully give way to tracks, trails. to what she hoped they would find; for if nyyrikki would not lead her, then she would make a second plea in the name of oromë and him alone.

for now, though, she continues her sole search.[/narrow]
the staff team luvs u

It was late.

Later then what he would usually stay up.

And everything fucking sucked.

Except—

Not really.

Not everything fucking sucked, not even when the path he took happened across someone else’s.

Instead, he grunted.

Red eyes seeing but not really seeing—it was just some silver bitch walking, big fucking deal—and continued on. Walking, with his head held low, his back paws falling in step with his front paws, and his tail limp.

So content, with a perfectly good non-conversation.

the staff team luvs u

[narrow width=800]usually, kuunhekku found herself full to brimming with more than a few words; but as it was, she gave herself over to the comfort of her aloneness, which was such a cherished thing that not even ukko could strip bare from her. it was a fragment of her that was coveted; one she turned in her mind, as if judging not its worth but rather what would be gained in some lengthier, intimate study. and so, had she been drawn into her search with any more  ( and had the boorish, honeyed male not grunted as he then did )  the nightingale would not have known another's presence.

and as there were yet no tell-tale tracks that she might discover, she decided to at least return the ... greeting, of sorts, by giving a decided hrmph with a jut of her pale jaw. it required a bit more effort, as her chest certainly did not have the depth that a male's did; and in the end, her lips went thin and furling with some humor as she finally gazed at the nomad in full; smokemirror eyes mellow and merry.

taking the heft of him in, she let her shoulders shrug, allowing her narrow hips slump, and her tail to slack at her hands; were the tip of the feathery thing not betraying her mimicry with amused, kittenish twitches, she might've been the paler, female image of his surly step. ... however, after having this impersonation go one for several strides or more, she relented; ears splaying with an absent sniff as she returned to her own mannerisms.

aside from the slight prance of paw, in order now to keep up with those longer limbs, the revenant was content to linger in such simple company; holding her tongue without reproach, and drifting from his flank every once so often to inspect some tough shrubbery, or errant scattering in the snows.[/narrow]

the staff team luvs u

She—the silver bitch, the small, annoying, walking one—grunted, in mockery, in jest, in pale imitation—

And Daighre glowered.

Heavy, and unamused. Dour, with his eyebrows heavy above his eyes, and his muzzle furrowed, starting to wrinkle. Feeling his upper lip twitch and wanting to peel. Not a sneer, but—

Almost.

An almost one.

But instead, he just grunted.

Huffing, under his breath, before shaking his head. Not rising for the bait for once in his godforsaken, angry life.

He kept walking.

Letting her follow.

Paying half a mind as she wandered, behind him, beside him.

Watching, in case she tried something.

the staff team luvs u