dead and cast away

@Eft and then maybe one other!

---

He was following a blue eyed raven, its white feathers easy to pick out amongst the night creeping in. There was something familiar about the corvid, something that plagued the man like a memory, one that slowly unfurled as though a scroll; the edges worn and dilapidated, the content faded and smudged and yet still readable. 

Over the mountains slopes, through its murky forest, the gilded northerner carved his path at the behest of the avian. Along the way, he noted the familiarity of the mountain, its spire stretching into the far reaches of the sky, the steep crag that seemed to drop off into oblivion. What was most familiar, however, was the sound of a nested óvild af hröfnum — unkindness of ravens.

Each step taken was another piece of the puzzle unlocked, Stjornuati found, the cacophony of the raven chorus above him helping him to remember that the white one was not just any bird, but a friend he'd made. @"D'Artagnan". Synin. And this was their watchtower, their mountain that they sought to claim for themselves. 

The fire within reignited then, a small, pleased smile etching its way 'cross the pale maw of the beast.

+1 Discovery Points

---

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Tagging @Doe in the background somewhere, since they are travelling together at this point!

---

The days stretched on so strangely in these lands! Eft had lost her friend's scent a few sleeps ago, and wondered now if it had been much longer than she'd thought since they'd last seen one another. It worried her a great deal, sometimes, and at those times she liked to suggest that she and Doe split up for a little while to cover more ground. Really, she just liked to be anxious without an audience.

The bone was with Doe, somewhere in the distance when Eft caught sight of a pale figure winging through the sky. She stopped to stare, and then picked up the pace to chase after it, only to come across the trail of a wolf. This was exciting enough all on its own, but Eft became a wiggling mess when she realized the other male carried the scent of her friend along with him.

"Vinur minn! Ertu hérna?" — My friend! Are you here? she sang out in a joyful howl, still loping through the murkwood on the stranger's trail.

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solitude had been her only companion;
and the northstar idler had been mostly solemn.

bitterness also was in attendance, but astarte ignored it; stamping it out with each step; shoving it into the drawers lying farthest from her mind, cobwebbed over with all the old reminisings and rememberings and regrets of all the tiny nothing-mores that'd bothered her throughout her young years. it did not matter — and she should put it from her mind.

it was something that grounded her more often than not, though.

curious, then  ( or, perhaps not )  that she should feel rather than hear the voices of ... others, after so long ambling upon her lonesome. even curiouser that some strange sense of shame washes over the pale wanderess; some nonsensical shyness that bids she veil herself from their view. as to the number of them, she isn't altogether sure ...

but she scrambles herself over and back up along the foothill shed been treading;
hunched and hiding behind a snowy outcropping like some misbehaved goblin, astarte listens as well as she can.

perhaps they would pass on, so that she would pick her way by.

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A sudden howl, a slew of words he understood from a voice he did not recognize. Ears twisted before his head did, a glance given to Synin before he turned to look at the sandy wolf that loped up the mountain in his very pawsteps. Ahead of her, he did not catch her scent, did not notice the way @Rökkvi clung to her furs. He was still not happy with his half-brother, still frustrated that the ironblooded wolf would even think that Stjornuati would have sought to be rid of him. The jealousy was an issue, once the gilded wolf saw no immediate fix for. 

Ruminating over her words, Stjornuati felt the weight of the white raven settle on his shoulder blade, a familiar and comfortable thing. “Hver er vinur þinn, litla kona? — Who's your friend, little woman?” He asked, eyeing her coolly. The presence of another went yet unnoticed but Stjornuati found that he trusted the feathered Synin to give him warning if anything should be amiss.
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Eft did not notice another stranger in their midst, either; if she smelled the presence of another wolf, it was discounted in favor of the more visible and present Stjornuati, upon whom she descended with a wagging tail and splayed ears to flatten herself just a stone's throw from his pale feet.

"Vinur minn — Hávaxinn og myndarlegur og dökkur. Hann týndist. Ég kom til að finna hann," — My friend! He is tall and handsome and dark. He got lost. I came to find him. the sand witch prattled, all the while advancing on the poor man before her. Without her paws beneath her, it was a move rather like "the worm". Her legs were too excited to work in concert, so there was a lot of unnecessary flailing going on while she exorcised some of her youthful wiggles.

Now that she saw him, Eft thought that this man was rather handsome as well. She hoped that he didn't get any ideas about her, since his friend was so obviously infatuated with her. She told him,

"I am Eft," since she didn't have a bone to protect blocking her from speech. She wished she had been able to speak more freely with their mutual friend! He would be so happy to be able to, now that she had a mouth again.

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by now, astarte had molded herself against the snows of the outcropping as best as she could; maybe if she simply peered over, she would see and know who exactly had congregated along these foothills with her. and she wasn't quite so large and great a wolf as to cause a disturbance, wasn't she? all she needed to do would be cling, pull herself over—

—not tumblr head over hind over heel, over and over and over again to the rumpled, blanketed earth below. kicking like a spring hare, she eventually rose, with a floundering gasp, nerves shot and skin flushed and—
they'd more than likely seen her, heard her—
seen it all and found her clumsy, and—
and it was futile now, so, so futile to pretend that she'd hadn't glimpsed them as well. 

if they didn't stop her— well, it didn't really matter, either. astarte'd already begun to press herself into the snows; and perhaps if she remained low enough, she'd be able to continue on her way at a creep.

perhaps.

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The description the woman gave could have been one of two wolves, one of which Stjornuati could eliminate from the looming possibilities. Had Rokkvi wooed this woman? A small huff of air left him, a lip curling at the thought of brutish, insecure, jealous Rokkvi finding a woman that interpreted it all as charming. Whether the curl of that lip was a smile or something else, it didn't matter, the expression disappearing as his muscles drew taught at the sudden racket. Instantly, he moved, roughly shoving the girl back, behind him as he rounded to face the threat. Pissed at his half-brother or not, Stjornuati would allow nothing to happen to his woman.

Because he had honor.

“Njósnari, — Spy,” he rumbled, teeth baring at the woman who tried to slink away. “State name or die, kona — woman.” His threat was hardly veiled, injecting every word with the violent venom that he would protect this mountain with from this day forward.
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Eft drew up stiff at the ruckus, and then found herself propelled backward, behind her friend's friend. Inwardly, she swooned, but she tried to pretend like she wasn't because her heart belonged to that other guy. Loyalty was important.

As the pale woman appeared, Eft let loose a string of filthy curses in her surprise, and then peered around Stjornuati as her racing heart began to calm. It's only a girl, she thought, unconcerned, but showed her support anyway by flashing her white, puppy-sharp teeth at the stranger.

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Cameo, since I was tagged, but I know you mentioned only one other Gina so I will remove if need be <3

---

 

Doe, with their bone, watched in the background. Was this the man Eft had mentioned...?  She had done really well for herself... he was quite good-looking. Really not paying attention to much else besides the hunk of a man, imagine her surprise when he pushed her Eft... 

The rangy, skinny girl was okay with a lot of things. Herself being pushed around included. But her sisters? 

She caught on, though, that it was done out of protection... because he spoke to someone else who was trying to make themselves scarce. Doe looked to Eft, who showed her teeth... and then looked to the strange lady and showed her own teeth, too,  not that they would do much with the bone they were holding fast to. She did not want to let that go.

Also, Doe was no warrior, and far from looked it in her state. She was scrappy at least, and was always one to do what she needed to in order to survive... even if she didn't do a great job at it. Whatever, though. At least she tried, right?
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her name?

her name would sound particularly stupid in this situation, she was sure. but ... if this situation was a true matter of life and death as the vuorimies — mountainman so claimed, then every second that slipped by would no doubt irk him with impatience and, well—
“i am astarte.”
—she supposes she shouldn't entirely cower, unless she wanted to die on her knees this day.

and she straightens from said slink, slowly, whether or not those gathered would take offense to what was  ( in her regard )  a simple gesture. there was a way of speaking about the male before her that she wasn't entirely familiar with, and in his bearing, so the starlit could certainly be wrong.

the wanderer holds herself warily, in case she needs to gather up into herself should any of them advance. but she wouldn't make a show of quailing and quivering ... even when she'd become friendly to that very thought less than a heartbeat ago.
the show of all-teeth did not frighten her, though;
it was the fact that she'd possibly be prevented from traveling any further.

but she would not put her belly to the blasted sky, if that's what they demanded.

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The raven upon his shoulder took flight, settling in a tree as Stjornuati advanced upon the kona, yellowed teeth flashing in the only warning she would receive. The man cared not-at-all for her pride or her stubborn nature, snarling in her face as she refused to submit. If she continued on this path, Stjornuati would force her — physically — to show what he was demanding of her. The light growl from behind him (and off in the distance) only served to bolster his already heavy amount of confidence, something he would show his appreciation for later. After.

---

Short post!

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pls forgive. Love u ellie. <3

---

Astarte — “Ass tart,” Eft said to herself, like the dumb bucket of fish that she was. But, oh! Look at that, they were gonna be growly at her! Eft pressed forward along with Stjornuati, tail flagging (but not above his!) and teeth seeking purchase in the female's pale furs.

Eft didn't need to draw blood to feel she'd done her part. She was just excited, and they were the boss of this wolf because they were many and she was one, and she was very interested in impressing Stjornuati (even though she was promised to another! Hopefully his esteem for her would rub off on Doe, and they would get married! She totally wouldn't be jealous at all if that were to happen.)

Whatever the case, Eft was there to back up her new buddy with teeth and a whole lot of noise.

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lolol ur good! <3 she's just going to be stubborn @ Submission no matter where i write her gdhshs this girl lmao

---

oh.
oh.

this swaggering cream puff sought to intimidate her with his hulking figure and a mawful of whatever-it-was that last stained his breath so horribly. and then the girl came forward, and still she did not fear the needlesome teeth, nor the ire in both.

these two  ( no, all gathered? )  wanted submission? then they would get it.

but the northmaid would not make it so simple.

she wrestled with her own would-be snarl that plucked at her soul-thin features. it was with a great effort that the gyptian made it into a fussier alternative; her most petulant pout yet and dark brows drawn low over her lashes. ever so obstinately, though, she lets her skull dip lower ... and lower ... jaw set all the while;
until her coltish legs fold beneath her, and she collapses into herself like a earthbound star; stubborn and spreading herself upon springy ribs;
and with a final, theatrical huff, lets her spine mold into the snow so that her ... ugh! —
her belly lie to the blasted sky.

all the while, the wisp kept her eyes canted away from the both of them; and, as insurance, sickled her feathering tail up between her knees; paws to breast, and all that.

if this was what she needed to do if it meant being allowed to pass on by, then so be it.

still: her frown remains.
it seems to ask, grumpily:  is this better?

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Ass tart.

A snort pushed its way out of his nostrils, a huff of a laugh that would like not be discernable to anyone but himself. Rokkvi's woman was quick to correct the outsider, maroon gaze glancing her way as he wait, head pulled high and stiff. With her support, Eft had instantly earned his approval, a supportive nip and bump to her shoulder given as he advanced to stand over the frail spy, eyes narrowed.

“Why do you sneak as if shadow, njósnakona? — spy-woman?” He spat the word, tail lashing above his back for a moment before he snapped once more at her belly, aiming to threaten that soft flesh with pain and the spill of her own blood. “Speak, now!” The command was barked, snarled at her.
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The pretty maiden's pouting only reinforced the idea that this was all a fun game. Sometimes her sisters (or she herself) also pouted while being bullied, but that was all just for show! (Except when she did it. When she did it, she meant it, and those two had better leave off! Only they never did. Hm.) The excitement of it had a whine whistling through her teeth; she circled around the pair on her long, gangly legs, quivering with anticipation.

Were they about to start a chase? Were they going to wrestle? All this talk of spies and whatnot was perfectly fine, but she wanted to get to the execution part of the game, where she and the handsome man and maybe Doe would violently beat the stranger, y'know, the way that good friends do!

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the ugliness of her own temper was a thin-veiled thing in skysilver eyes; eyes that flew to his, foolish and undaunted; dared to look up into that austere face for less than a heartbeat.  “i wander like the wind,”  astarte insists, keeping her chords strung with stiff placidity.  “i only ... sneak like a shadow because i am alone. i must be careful.”  wouldn't any of them be, if they were in her position?

but they look as if they had not be alone for so long as she. and then, on the few occasions where she had to remember what words were and all the ways to hold one's body, she'd been made a fool of and had made a fool of herself.

alone.

she rolls her own tear-sprung eyes  —  at herself, of course  –  and bids them not to fall as she turns her head from the heckling pair. they were both close enough to hear her faint sniffle, that was to be sure; but she cared not for the snapping at her stomach, nor the idea that they might think her pathetic or rightfully fearful of them for it.

the boreal had half a mind to ask what those odd-ish words he threw about meant ... but the other half whispered that it would not be wise to agitate this overpuffed male further than she already  ( somehow )  managed to. so instead, she bites her lip before it can tremble before her brazen audience; stares seethingly at the damned mountain she'd only just worked her way around.

let them spill her innards then, and warm themselves with her blood if they damn well pleased. maybe then the little vulture that clawed 'round her would be sated.

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Because she was alone.

Alone.

It was a weak excuse, one Stjörnuáti would not fall prey to, nor soften his icy heart to. The north was no place for a creature such as she, its unforgiving cold taking the lives of those who were not hardy enough to be alone.

“Go,” He ordered her, tail still arched high over his back. “Leave and do not return, kona.” She did not belong, would never belong, and so he would seek to run her off his mountain.
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Eft, who had recently gotten her first taste of alone, thought that this was rather sad. But wandering like the wind, on the other hand, sounded both fun and quite evocative. She filed the phrase away (along with who she was with when she'd heard it) to steal at a later date.

It didn't seem as though the game was ever going to take off. Eft was beginning to feel rather cheated about it, and so her tail had gone still and sullen, and her cheerful features had flattened into an expression of austere boredom. Stjornuati ordered the woman away, and Eft sidled into his periphery, darting glances between him and the pale woman.

Want me to chase her? Lemme chase her, boss!

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last post since ya gurl said pce! lmao

---

disappointment.
and something sour.

and though she lie on her back, her lip curled, and her eyes rolled in sockets aching with the pressure of seeming so submissive and pitiful for ... who-ever in the nine hells this was. neither would she conceal her utter contempt for the girl who practically crowed over her. 

had she not been outnumbered, she would have lashed out;
she would have sprung at that wiry yearling; leapt upon her and wrung her blasted scruff.
she would have fallen upon the male who supposedly prided himself upon the fear and futility of others.

but astarte was alone.
this clan was not.

and so, with long legs kicking up into the north wind with a rather ugly, heavy snarl of her own ... the starlit ran.

ran from who and what they were that she would never be; coltish limbs casting her quick and wild and tireless, fearless in a southerly direction and all the climes not yet known to her.

gods damn them all.

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He snapped after her, strong legs springing him forward as she snarled and bolted both. Stjörnuáti was unconcerned with catching the little ass tart, his desire simply to run her off the mountain and away from what he had a feeling he and his brother would be claiming as their home. Even then, the gilded male did not carry on after her for terribly long, slowing his pace once he was satisfied with her distance and huffing his triumph through his nostrils. A moment later, his voice rang out after her, a long, low howl calling across the land to @Solpallur, @Valmúa, @Frost, and @Rökkvi, seeking to draw them all to him.

The hringja sang deep in his bones, resonating in his soul as he turned, giving both Eft and @Doe encouraging nips upon their shoulders. “Þú stóðst þig vel. Ég er Stjörnuáti. Bróðir minn, Solpallur og ég leiðum og verndum lítið ætt. Gakktu til liðs við okkur. — You did well. I am Stjörnuáti. My brother, Solpallur and I lead and protect a small clan. Join us.” Confident as he was in their decision, the pale wolf began his way back up the slope, watching as a collection of ravens rose from the treetops. Here, they seemed to roost and watch, keeping an eye on all that was around them.

The name came to him instantly. Hrafnsvaktin. Raven's Watch. While Solpallur still needed to see the spire he had found, there was no doubt in his mind that he would find it just as fitting as he did.

+2 Discovery Points

---

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Doe was a horse quite literally chomping at the bit, not in the background for very long; she was soon closer, though not very... useful. Her teeth were wrapped firmly around she and her sisters prize. No way Ass Tart (a rude laugh bloomed from her throat) was gonna get this. But when they gave chase, Doe was bounding on after, moving with Eft. It was like they were chasing Yar! And Doe thought this was all good fun, too... it reminded her of home. 

She, like Eft, didn't mean anything hateful by it. Ass Tart was having fun too, she was willing to bet. 

They stopped soon, which was good; Doe found herself hungry and tired both after the journey and the running both. The handsome man nipped them and Doe yipped 'round the bone. Doe did not understand a single word of what was said, but he looked good saying it—with an incorrigible look to her sister, as the male made off Doe dashed after him... unaware of the commitment she made in the process.

He was totally going to be her husband. Eft had her man, and had serendipitously led Doe to her own. Eft was, as usual, the best.
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The howl caught his attention, pulling his head up from the stream he drank from. The brothers had been operating separately for a small stint, though it was rare that they were ever too far apart to not hear from one another. Solpallur had been ranging along the mountains over the last few days since they had made their break from the icy grotto, not so much taking in the sights as he was looking for a place that they might stake out for their own.

He left the stream to venture onward, picking through the forest at an easy lope until he began to catch sight of others. Only then did his pace slow to survey what he was walking into; it should not have surprised him that Stjornuati had been busy gathering followers. He was always the more social of their pair, more familiar with the range of tongues they spoke in that Solpallur could only slightly grasp.

“Þú hefur verið upptekinn, bróðir, — You’ve been busy, brother,” he said as he joined them. It was with a sharp, piercing gaze that he laid eyes on those already in tow—they were unfamiliar figures, their substance questionable though apparently worthy enough to have caught interest. He gestured at them, as though to ask who are they, and met Stjornuati’s gaze.

+1 Discovery Points

---

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The girls gave chase, but it was not long before they were called back to Stjornuati's side by sheer handsomeness alone. That was how Eft saw it, anyway. She high-stepped alongside him, trailing back just enough to show her respect for his higher position. (He was taller and older, and Eft had not yet learned how to be the actual boss of anyone.)

Except for Doe, of course. But Eft was feeling magnanimous today, so she trailed to help Doe carry their burden, even if it made it much harder to walk, bumping against the other girl in such close quarters.

It was not long before they were joined by another. Eft was eager to reunite with her lost love, but tall, handsome men kept pouring out of the woodwork! This one grunted at his brother in such a way that Eft knew he must surely possess hidden depths and passion; she side-eyed Doe (not difficult, with their face near pressed together) to see if she, too, was planning Yar's future with this man.

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Having been actively avoiding his brothers since the dramatic reunion with Stjörnuáti, Rökkvi was loathe to respond to the call that rose to rally the pack. Nervousness fluttered to life in his belly - not because he feared the stareater's wrath, but because he struggled with the idea that his gilded brother might seek to humiliate him publicly.

Despite the unbridled jealousy he felt toward his kin, the ironborn had always been a follower to them. The hringa had led him halfway across the world from the only life he'd ever known to find them, yet still he held onto the assumption that his loyalty to their cause was unappreciated.

It wasn't fair, but few things were. Rökkvi knew he would learn to live with his woes, or at least try to.

So he went, reluctantly, and his regret intensified as his champagne eyes swept briefly over the group to find a familiar, scrawny figure. He paused mid-stride, both surprised and frustrated to see that she'd survived the tundra long enough to source his location, and he exhaled an exasperated sigh through flared nostrils. Would his bad luck ever end?


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A howl sounded in the near distance, along with the mass of accumulating scents, footsteps, and barking just ahead -- had a pack lay it's claim in these lands before his very eyes? There was no way they'd been here for long, have they? The banded hen's curiosity got the best of her before Kaster's own, and soon the weight of plume' covered talons would be lifted away from his shoulders as Pheobe went to fly overhead and look on her own -- and soon, the archer would come trudging after to do his own investigation.

If he was in the wake of a freshly banded pack, then this could mean good news for him. It was about time Kaster had found himself anew claim to align with after long giving up on the one that seemed to have disappear -- and though the terrain gave resemblance to a memory that made his face sour, these parts seemed to be more mountainous. Not something he was used to, but surley the woodlander could become adjusted to it over time. That is, if everything in the leading events went his way of course.

It was not long before his icy hues caught sight of his feathery companion adrift just ahead, and just below her were the group of wolves he already had a feeling would be here. Un, duex, trois, quatre, cinq -- a blurry colored quintet in which he was walking towards. The question was, which one of them was in charge of the gathering at hand?

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