sunkissed skin and ivory teeth

Rays of light beamed into the valley with an unyielding heat, the final remnants of summer peaking through the clouds before Fall tightened its grasp.

Heat bloomed over a dark pelt, a stark difference from the winds and ice Gjalla had experienced a few days prior in Northfall. The princess would lay in a field of flowers, supported by a bed of moss.

With Vahaelarr at her side, they ventured east in search of a new domain. Gjalla was an heiress, but she was no diplomat. A sharp tongue and fiery temperament were a potent mix best left dormant; she'd sent Vae to make arrangements with a neighboring pack in her stead while she lazed nearby.

With any luck, he’d return as one of them to bring her to their new home.

---

for @Tamir

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Hazel eyes watched from the captivity of a dark form, movements languid as they tracked the slow rise and fall of a dame's frame. A she so blissfully unaware of a shadow lurking between the light's crevices. After the reuniting of Tamir and his family, as well as the assortment of additions to Velaris' numbers, Faust had declared themselves a larger party. A pack. It was no surprise, as the men knew that through Mother, it was just one of their many purposes in their new world. It was one of the few reasons why the shadowman was out within the outskirts of their newly claimed territory.

Recruitment.

Despite the evergrowing Velaris, Faust had insisted Tamir scout, to which he was more than pleased to do. The slow drum of beaks against wood and the distinct flutter of wings against wings was enough of an invitation for the man. Soothing and solitary as it was, he'd been amidst his walk when the shift of oak and moss lifted with a fragrance of mint. If in another world, Tamir would chalk it up to be a simple change in scenery, a flora he hadn't yet discovered, but in a world where each day another body came, he was convinced the scent didn't belong to anything attached to leaves and a stem. After the first whiff, it took the man mere minutes to find the relaxed form of another. Asleep amidst a beauty he would've been more distracted by given his duties were absent. Instead of letting his admiration get the better of him, he'd left himself confined to the shadows, ever still until he'd managed to confirm she was alone.

Only then did he let the rustle of leaves scraping his sides alert the other of his presence. Though still, if her slumber was presumed to be deep, he'd let his paw press to an exposed part of her back—a gentle tap—before he stepped back to give her space.

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A calloused paw-pad pressed gently against the she-wolf's spine, and the princess would stir, dragging a paw to sit over shut eyelids with the low rumble of her throat.

 
Blinking herself awake, she huffed to peer up at the figure. "I'm up, I'm up," She began swiftly, lips parting in a silent yawn. "What is it?" Gjalla questioned. Vahaelarr usually let her sleep; when he didn't, it was typically urgent.
 
The gap of silence that followed made her brow furrow as her vision cleared from her tire. And there he was - adorning a plumage of ebony fur and cream accents. That's not Vahaelarr. In her haze, she'd mistaken the stranger for her companion.
 
Her nose wrinkled, twisting to sit up and promptly glare at them. "Look, don't touch." Gjalla chided, tufted ears flattening against her skull. "What do you want?" The princess added expectantly.

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As the slumbering woman stirred, Tamir only widened the distance between them even more. His paws moved ever so carefully as to not flatten the stalks of magenta and pink, a flurry of grass moths erupting beneath him with each step. That and the prick of thistles against his ankles was enough to distract him if but only for a moment before a feminine voice infiltrated nature's symphony. Her clear familiarity upon waking gave way to one thing—he was not the person she thought he was.

When her tone turned sour, the man's irritance pricked as much as the thistles had his ankles, driving a coil into an ever-growing flurry of fire in his stomach. Despite never being one to complain, he was getting tired of dealing with the strays and their attitudes. Tamir's expression remained stoic as he stared down at the woman painted in achromatic hues. Though, if he stared long enough and she was in the right lighting, he could just make out a rare sight of blue. Interesting as it was, he was more focused on her insistence hidden behind the question she'd asked.

Ignoring her "gentle" chide, he narrowed his eyes down at her with a carefulness. He didn't need her knowing he'd been scrutinizing her the moment he walked on her soundlessly sleeping form. However, he'd suspected she was doing just the same from the moment she woke. “Do you live here?” The man would quip, voice gruff and question to the point. He had no doubt that she'd more or less fight him on his questions, or the lack of response he gave hers, but with a family lying in the land where she rested, he painted a bigger picture of urgency.

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Gjalla would stare, perhaps a moment too long, while contemplating her answer. The woman was bound to none; no particular pack nor wolf. "I am a vagrant. I live nowhere." She explained, dismissive. Vexation would prick in her chest, a pang of seemingly mutual disdain. 

 
Gjalla's chin tucked towards her chest, squaring her shoulders. Her sides would inflate with drawn breath, steeling herself. "But this territory isn't claimed." She continued, noting the potent blend of untouched wilds. Flora and earth, devoid of the unmistakable markers of pack territory. On him, it would cling. A plethora of scents beyond just his own, slightly staled by time.
 
Perhaps he was one of the wolves she'd sent Vahaelarr to meet. Still, Gjalla refused to regret her justified vexation. The princess had come here for peace; disruptions of any sort would've earned the same malice.

The brute had ignored her earlier question, so she'd shift and turn her head further down the vale where the mountains curled into the grass and split this strath from the next. She was no mediator, but would Gjalla preferred her pelt to be unspoiled by the ivory fang. "I'm waiting for someone. I'll leave when he returns."

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Tamir's ears flicked in a dismissive count towards her words. She lived the land, even if briefly, she was there—a minty imprint for others to find. He didn't think her foolish, but the way she spoke, it was obvious she wasn't aware of basic laws. His chest expanded with a deep inhale. She was aware, she just didn't care. The man's gaze hardened slightly.

“Claimed? We hunt here.” His head tilted to the side marginally, tone thinning in time with his patience. “Marking it would do us little good, no?” It was a slight bend of truth. Being as they only settled within Velaris recently, there were lands still yet to be marked or even discovered by those deserving of Mother's grace. Even still, Tamir wasn't too enthused with the idea of a stranger, no less one accompanying another he'd never met.

His head seemed to thrum more questions, tossed back and forth against his temples with a surge of dizziness. “Where is he returning from?” There was so little Tamir knew, so little he was able to act on. It irked him to no end. He was too much of a loyalist to leave her be so close to their territory, but too faithful to chase her beyond their borders outright. His jaw ticked the longer he stared at her, her very presence testing his tolerance.

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A dark head would reel backward at the revelation, eyes illuminated with short surprise as they darted to look at him because, oh. Her nose wrinkled further, this time cringing. Gjalla's posture did not dip nor shift, but her eyes would crinkle with uncertainty. She was trespassing.
 
A harmless mistake, really, one of few. Everything in Gjalla wanted to gnaw and groan with an exasperated sigh because, fuck all, the stranger is right. Composing herself with a short breath, she'd offer an apology, however insignificant: "Sorry." It sounded strained in her throat, a show of her discomfort before fading.
 
"That way." Gjalla gestured towards distant cliffs with a curt nod. This stranger's home, most likely. "He - Vahaelarr - is seeking sanctuary for us both." The princess added, returning her glance to him. If she were to join him, she supposed introductions were in order. "I am Gjalla."

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Sorry... The man's head lifted in surprise at the apology, a tedious effort and one unfamiliar to the dame from what he could tell. He resonated with her in that. Apologies weren't his forte either. Admitting a mistake? His head shook internally at the thought—mistakes weren't for him. He wouldn't be a failure—he'd worked too hard.

A short sigh expelled from the man's parted maw, gaze following the brief courtesy she gave way to when showing him what she was talking about. Tamir would know the looks of the Vale anywhere, and he should've known. Every part of him seemed to go on edge, muscles tightening in a brief show of alarm. Her words meant that someone had already wormed their way through him, through the shadows he'd put up and the boundaries he'd laid. “You think it will be found there?” Truthfully, he didn't know whether or not Faust would extend the offer to them. Their aura of eerie royalty was bound to trip the trio up at some point, no doubt.

A Royalist. She even spoke elegantly. It was odd and foreign, almost. He couldn't decide how it made him feel, or if it simply pegged more questions regarding her prior home. He wanted to find out more, not only to settle his own curiosity but to protect his family as well. The more he knew, the better and the safer they all were. But curiosity and trepidation aside, there was little he could do now with the headstart this Vahaelarr had on him.

It did nothing to ease his worries or the mild frustration pricking at his temples. But her name was a welcome distraction. “Gjalla.” He'd repeat after she'd graced him with an introduction, his decision to replicate it still undecided. She didn't need to know his name, not until it was necessary, he was sure. So it was a surprise when a gruff, “Tamir” left his lips in response. “His absence? How long has it been?”

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Her lips parted with a breath of her own, thoughtful. A valid concern, one she, too, weighed in the back of her mind. Tamir's uncertainty was palpable, and she’d nod gently. "Perhaps. Better there than nowhere at all." She parried decidedly. The princess, although no socialite, thrived in pack environments. A task would make her productive - put her intellect to use. She had much to contribute.

When he repeated her name, she regarded him with a measured gaze as her chin dipped in a curt nod, lips flat in a thin line. "No more than an hour, at most.” Gjalla replied, "If he is not welcome, he should return soon, and we will take our leave." She'd reassure him, a trace of warmth in her voice. It was lilting, an effort to lessen the growing anxiety that laced his words. Vahaelarr would not leave her here, she was sure.

Their intentions of finding a home were pure, and Gjalla would tell Tamir as much. From what she gathered, he was devoted to the protection of his pack. As was she, in the past. If he wished to watch her until she left, she would not protest.

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He supposed she was right. As much as he'd hated to admit such a thing, mentally or otherwise. Truthfully, a distinct, though little, part of Tamir knew that Faust wouldn't send them off. Not when they did need the numbers and the resources new members would bring in. He simply hated the risk that came along with them. But he admired Faust's compassion, even if it tested his patience over time.

Another sigh. He felt like his father, huffing and puffing every time he was disappointed in the young shadow. The memory paired with the warmth he could hear in Gjalla's words made his ears flick, their subconscious urge to flatten ever apparent. After the nostalgia left him, he rolled his tongue in his mouth, a retort heady at the forefront of his mind. As much as he'd like to, he wasn't going to stay and watch her. The reassurance that would come with it was of little comfort if the conversation to be had with Faust was still thrown in the air. Questions asked to the dame would be empty—mere assumptions at most.

He needed facts.

He supposed it could wait, perhaps a few minutes. The man settled into a sit a little ways away from her, shoulders only seeming to tense the more vulnerable he became. “You are from?” His intentions were pure just as well. He was doing his duty, as both a spy and a member of the Velaris family. He'd assumed she'd understand, but her answers were hers to keep. He wouldn't pester her for something she held to her chest.

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The princess observed the man with a borderline eerie quiet, eyes tracking as the shadow moved to sit in the grass. In tandem, she'd fold her legs to lay once more.

"Somewhere colder, as far north as you could go." A vale laden with snow and ice, the wind akin to tornados. It was the only home she'd ever known, lost now. "Stormrift." Pride and longing bloomed in her chest. Oh, how she wished she could go back to when days were simple.

Gjalla hoped the idea of home would soothe him, bring some sort of comfort often found in places familiar. "And you? What is your home called?" She asked.

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Where she assumed comfort, there was only pain. Pain for a world lost, pain for a world they were forced to begin. The namings of his homeland didn't matter now. “A land forgotten and suited for the past, Gjalla. I am of Velaris now, that is all that matters.” Though thoughts of his past frequented his mind often, memories of his home and the people alike, it wasn't in his best interest to flood this woman's ears with matters of sorrow.

His head turned down to her, expression steeled. “Your companion heads to my keep. Shall we save him a trip?” Regardless of her own decision, the man had spent enough time beyond the Vale. He'd no doubt find her again if what she spoke of was true regarding her companion. Would he have found Faust? Or would his luck have proved worthy and instead guided him into the path of joviality and mirth in the form of Raenar?

The shadowsinger's tail flicked as he rose, casting a brief glance at the woman sat before him with little regard for what she chose.

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His eyes told the princess more than he would himself, and she left it at that - no need to pry into a stranger's mind, after all. Gjalla gave a hum of understanding, gaze veering to the mountains.
 
"I don't see why not," She shrugged, lifting once more to join his side. "Lead the way."

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