by our children sung no longer & sung in part by many heroes,

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open to a few members! fc tags just for reference as usual ♡

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this time it is erasure that she chases. erasure, and hunger  —  of yearning, so she throws it off by making her way from her claim once more, settling it deep within her breast as she curses her marriage to burden, to the unattainable. as she had once before, the nightingale flees from the fall from grace that'd landed her on those southern stygian shores, nevermind how many moons ago it'd been; knows how it feels to have something so ancient and timeless ripped from the middle of one's soul. it is only after she has made sure her children have drifted off somewhere safe with @Inarius, with @Eira, does she follow the sentinel stands of pinewoods out out out from her upon-high cloudrest. follows the spartan, bristling shrubbery the further north she goes; and though she has frequented the glacial gardens from time to time, she has not yet taken as much interest in the packlands that edge that sacred space as she should have until recently. 

but now, she stands some ways from its very threshold;
lumine head thrown back to loose a low, lilting herald.

the silence that followed has been deafening; weighed and heavied against her eardrums. the rhythm is, at first, strange and unkind — until she knows it to be the wardrum beat of her base and bloody heart. the shiver of breath in lungs. she wonders if any who roamed here  ( for the scent of those who claimed was sure here, and strong )  had seen her on her meander to these unfamiliar mountains. while she makes still the shivering of her lungs, kuunhekku looks upon those clawing peaks, the long, ireful shadows, the garish and idolsome roots, the great blushing blooms afar, and does not recoil.

wonders, too, whether they would deign to answer a mere lone call; if they could even hear, from so very far up.

only time would tell, though;
and so the sotaherra waits.[/narrow]

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Strung up tight, frustrated and on guard, the dark Ostrega prowled his restless rounds over their bordering lands. With the empress' life suddenly hanging in a delicate balance, compounding the tensions among the pack before and him intentionally avoiding any mention of his last trip into the deeper north, he was walking on a growing edge--and here and now, he had the feeling that anything could happen given the right, or wrong, push. Antares had learned fast that it was never a dull moment for Shiroshika, or at least it certainly had been since he had come into their fray.

He was fashioning himself into a lookout, seeing who came and went if he could, and though he did not expect Reiko's attacker to return to Tsukiishi grounds outright, he liked to entertain the idea that they could be prepared if so. It was at least something to do until he had a more concrete plan. A start. Though it was difficult to carry the illusion of stable safety now, not sure if their empress would wake up, and how the future would seem for her wolves who struggled to keep it together in the meantime. Concerns best saved for later.

This placed him near enough when the call rose into the frigid winds, and while he may not have all of the answers a stranger might come here to seek, he intended to be a beginning. A turn on his heel and he stretched into a short run to find them--a pale ghost, seemingly alone. All the more curious now, he approached lightly, shedding the weight of his bothers for its guise of cool confidence. Shiroshika would not waver on his behalf and quick with the navy-blue scrutiny, he thought he recognized the scent of mountains. “You called?”

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 She was up bright and early. Her nightmares saw to that as well as the budding pit of guilt, anger, and sadness sitting inside of her like rancid meat. When her terrible dreams didn't keep her from a good slumber, that did. It was never ending torture and now that Cirilla had disappeared, it seemed to be even worse. The fact of the matter was, she wasn't even sure she was ready to see the happy ball of fluff. That meeting with the rat-faced asshole and her pet was humiliating. They'd look like a bunch of fools. Weak. Stupid. The more she turned it over in her mind and replayed events --colored by her own perceptions and memory tainting things-- the more she was convinced that they only left because of what a joke the Shiroshikan posse was.

 That morning found her pacing the borders. Doing a border patrol? Not really, she was just... out. She couldn't sit in the camp, it made her think of Cirilla which added another layer of heartache on top of every other negative emotion that there was. It was almost a relief when she heard the call of an outsider. Maybe this one would know what proper borders were. So, she turned herself to the sound and went as fast as she could to meet the stranger.

 Once there, she could see that someone else had beat her to the punch, likely due to her slow speed. She noted this with a silent twinge of irritation at herself as she took a spot near Antares, giving him a nod of greeting and an appraising look at the newcomer. She was certain that the man had already posed a question and would let him take the reigns and offer herself as an alarm call if something went sour.

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[narrow width=800]she does not have to wait long to listen to the answering silence that is always swollen, incoherent and thick; nor for the sentinel that arrives like an omen, and just as swift and as immeasurably sardonic. troubled and tired and a thing as of yet untended to; tense irritation hauled back the nearer he comes, behind a curtain of cool composure and in answer she deigns to leave it unacknowledged. whatever rests heavy upon the spectral shadow's shoulders and gives them strain, it is not her place to ask after or to know. his eyes are deepwell, and though he asks after her being here he is uninviting black.

she likes him immediately.

"you heard,"  and though she tugs the resigned shift of her figure together in uniform, militant posture, her mouth twitches in repressed cheer at the edges; some misplaced, muted mischief and her pale lips part their seam to perhaps answer him further when there is the arrival of yet another. her argent eyes flit to the burnished one with a tip of her crown  —  steadied so on her green that if she had seen any sort of missing limb she neither noticed or cared.

her unshying smile has only grown with this addition to her audience, anyways.

the nightingale chews her lip, looking back into the dark face of her initial company, searching for something that she isn't sure is not there; but the scent of him, of them both, is not unlike the blacklegs and the titan she had now met twice before on her cloudrest and then in the unending frore itself. so:  "often have i foraged from the gardens so near to here, but have never known if that was apart of this pack that i scent on you now. i supposed that it was time to make sure  –  at least, to introduce my presence there as much as seek out you and yours."  her tail feathers, flicks absently at pale haunches. "forgive my ...curiosity, if you will. i am riannon, a herbalist of the peoples frostchant."

and though it was not an untruth ...still she withholds her nature's true stature; and again she cannot help but delight in the fluttery way her stomach furls at the prospect of it.[/narrow]

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He leans further into his sense of curiosity easily enough, smoothing his harsher edges in it while he can, though a dutiful watch prevails. She is a stranger, and perhaps has business with their lot? He wouldn't know, didn't know, rather, so only wonders for now as he regards her subtlest shifts in posture to answer him.

And, shortly after his own arrival on the scene, Gyrfalcon came to join him as well; towards the redhead, he kept the appreciative glance brief but he is glad to see her as another set of eyes and ears beside his own on the situation. Not that suspicion was running high, or anywhere in particular, he certainly won't complain to have the advantage in numbers--and rightfully, on their home ground, it's just a proper look, he thinks.

Bolstered silently, Antares keyed in to listen carefully. With everything going on in recent days, who knew what could be relevant where. He peered at the pale visitor openly. “Ah, nothing to forgive. Our claim is the mountains--Tsukiishi,” he gestures with his muzzle to the craggy slice of landscape rising beyond. He can almost sound confident in the unpracticed tongue, too, but it is only in these small steps. His confidence as a face here was helping, and more and more, he melded into their fray. “Though we do frequent the gardens,” he agreed, her nose had not led her wrong; Antares knew their empress had been one of them, once.. so he noted its draw to other herbalists in the area.

With it, the dark guardian appreciated that she has come to seek them out before they are left to stumble across her next to their home. “And we are Shiroshika. I am Antares,” he offered in return, and with a pause in tow, tipped his muzzle towards Gyrfalcon so she could decide if she felt like sharing her own introduction there or not. He was keeping up his best, business-minded behavior, open about what this was because they had nothing to hide. Nevermind that their empress' may not wake, or that her attacker roamed free yet. “Where does Frostchant make its claim?” he asked, quick to follow the trail of an unfamiliar lead. It was not one of the packs Vendrussel had told him about before, so he stood neatly poised to learn more.

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 Her arrival on the scene was noted by both parties. Her fellow packmate gave her a look that seemed positive enough and this, helped alleviate some of her usually grumpiness. To not be seen as a burden but as someone that could do something should the need arise. Fighting, perhaps not on her own, but maybe she could provide enough of an advantage if the need arose. But, this woman that stood on their borders did not seem like the violent type. At the very least she wasn't marred in a smattering of scars like certain other wolves... so that was a plus. What also was a plus was the fact that the white maiden didn't linger on her leg, or lack thereof, and did not stare. She couldn't stand staring, it awakened every negative emotion that she had but ah, that was not the topic at hand and she should really be focusing here.

 The other seemed to be some sort of emissary from Frostchant. She'd heard nothing of that pack and was interested to hear of it now. Maybe they could do with some allies with that demon lurking about doing gods knew what. So, the downed falcon would listen with attention and absorbed the information. Noting that this one was an herbalist. An herbalist emissary? Interesting combination, a good one now that their queen was down and out for the count. Although she heard tale of the healer from their allies making his way here or was about to be here or something of that sort. Still, healing was an honorable occupation and one she'd always been suck at. That was her mother's job and she'd never had the knack and never gave it real consideration with her excellence at hunting and scouting.

 When introductions were made she'd slip in a quick, "And I'm Gyrfalcon." She would say in the pause that Antares offered. He was quite good at this diplomacy stuff. Gyrfalcon just felt it good and easy to let him speak so that she didn't accidentally slip something in that was offensive. She was good at doing that nowadays.

Words: 352

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[narrow width=800]antares, gyrfalcon. she eyes the make and measure of them both, before that silver gaze once again flits to the jostle of tsukiishi crags that reach into the skies from the bowels of the earth like some giant's hand; the very same that must cradle those of shiroshika within its earthworn palm. the tongue that the great dark points the necessary out to her in is a new one; an unfamiliar thing that trips over the lips and rises again in less than a heartbeat. his inquiry about where her claim lies is what arrests her attention back to him like iron pointing to true north. looked into those blue eyes so fierce and full with clear understanding until she breathes:  "southwest."

and then, kauko-willing  —  she could not help it.

"quite southwest, cloudrest is, really,"  turning aside with a chew of her lip so she is not quite so near that marked border as she urges herself into a steady, slow shamble. knows that both would follow her, keep her movements check and yet if she paid that keenness any mind, she did not show it; it was better than standing the mornlight away.  "we rest as an in-between of the norths and the souths. if you were to pass the everfrost, there is a throat that leads in from these that we call andonhrívion — gate of winter  –  our wintersgate. rise through it, and you will find our mountains that pry open the belly of the skies,"  looks askance with a purse of pale lips for them both, a near-inconspicious curl at their corners,  "running with the one we earn our lives with."[/narrow]

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Southwest, she answered, and Antares promptly wondered if maybe he knew the place. His still-limited scope of way lie beyond the sanctity of Shiroshika's claim, and an uncertainty in the absolute skill of his maps, he could at least make for a best guess. There had been a foggy peak, one beyond the pine forests.. so perhaps it aligned. With or without this past foundation, it would be something to remember next time he got to stretch his legs and now it was some real marker out there in the wilds beyond. The mountains always managed a particular draw on him anyway. Best to know what could potentially await.

Then, after another loitering glance to Gyrfalcon at his side, he began to follow their ivory visitor--slowly, wanting to see if his packmate felt the same and would join him in this much, too. He didn't have anything in particular to lose in trailing along some; he wanted to hear what else she had to say. If she was an ambassador from another pack, especially.

And though he had heard a nice assortment of strange language already since awakening in this tundra, her tongue granted another, one quite unlike the rest. One he was nowhere near about to attempt to repeat. Andonhrívion. Antares blinked, reaching for some attempt to remember that. “Next time I range out, I might see for myself. I haven't mapped the area all that well yet,” he admitted, but gestured to their surroundings at large, somewhat in the direction from which he had come from. “We have had plenty to stay busy with at home lately,” the dark Ostrega added, vaguely enough but carried on neatly past it, back to a focus pinned on the one he was most curious about as she set their course. “So, the garden--looking for anything particular there? What else could have you come down from Cloudrest, all the way out our way?” he pressed mildly, keeping his attempt general--eager to hear anything.

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 Southwest. Cloudrest. She had no idea where that specific place was but she did know sort of what lay to the south. "In the Mountain Region?" The woman asked for clarification as she felt that was an important enough detail.

 Antares glanced back at her again, to which the falcon would give a shrug before starting to limp along with them. The easy, meandering pace made it simple enough for Gyrfalcon to keep up with her four-legged counterparts without any difficulties. As they walked, the white wolf would expound on what she was saying. Wintersgate. Her words were eloquent yet perfectly easy to understand. Hell, it made her want to see this mountain in the skies.

 Perhaps she should ask Cirilla to--

 And then she remembered Cirilla was missing.

 When Cirilla came back then, for she would not believe the worst. The lovely lady just needed space... that was all.

 "Maybe it was our renowned tundran herbs." It was sarcasm, a little drier than what her humor would have been before the incident but an attempt was made. Plus, the lady had said that she was a healer, right?

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