@Mona backdated to sometime shortly before
this thread
Something wild was brewing within him-- he could feel it.
As he gathered his strength, a fire was returning to the former soldier's veins, a renewed will to live. It burned fiercely, as he did, in argent and ink. Feeling returned to him now in stinging waves of heat and biting surges of ice, battling painfully in his chest. Nathaniel thought himself unable to bear it-- so he took a walk.
A walk, yes, to clear his mind and his heart and maybe have himself another helping of that stony indifference that seemed to have worn off. Perhaps not the healthiest coping mechanism; shouldn't he have been waiting for this? For the grief to wear off finally, so he could deal with the mess that had become himself and move on? But no, he hadn't been looking forward to it. It felt wrong still, to consider giving himself closure when those he had left behind would have none. Not even in the grave, for they had none but where they had fallen.
He shook his head as if to ward off the thoughts. If he was to be as he had in the past-- the rage and the flicker, the heat and the chill-- he could not do it brokenly. Nathaniel had always lived dangerously; there was no room in that world for the broken.
But he was no fool, fired up as he already found himself. Nor was he as cold as he might have others believe. There was something for him here, one of the few things he had left in this world. Small and weak as it was, the connection to his father was enough to anchor him for now. The old man was dying, he concluded in his own mind as he sat a few feet from the edge of the cliff, peering over it. It would not be much trouble to stay until he passed... would it?
sorry for how long this took!
after shouting at casmir and rowan to leave her alone, to not follow her, after being admitted soon thereafter into tindome, mona had taken her anger and confusion and run with these burdens for the jagged teeth of the mountain closest to her. in desperate rage she had climbed its crags and found a small cave at the clifftop for her efforts. and here the mayfair had collapsed, her weighted heart engendering hot tears that flowed until mona was unable to keep exhaustion from stealing her.
the girl wasn't sure of the time when she awoke; pulling her red plume away from where it had been laid across her face, mona blinked into the cold air and unfurled herself from the tiny den with a grunted sigh. tasting salt on her lips, the yearling rolled murkwater eyes angrily and made as if to wipe the dried tears away, but froze in place when her vision caught sight of another.
his broad back was to her, thickly furred in hues of ash and off-white, but it was his size that rather robbed mona's breath, and she crouched suddenly in the rocks outside the mouth of the little cave, terrified she would be spotted.
It's totally fine!! ^-^
Nathaniel liked to think that, over time, he had developed a sort of sixth sense when it came to being looked at. It was better than admitting he was paranoid as sin, anyway. So when he felt that familiar sense of being distinctly uncomfortable, the ex-soldier couldn't help but glance over his shoulder.
He blinked once, twice, then turned fully around. Was he seeing things?
But no; huddled by the entrance of a small cave (the existence of which he had overlooked in his angst) was a wisp of red. She looked terrified.
Normally he wasn't one to coddle the feelings of others, but it left him feeling slightly cornered in a way when a wolf went about being so small and looking so scared of him. He lowered his front half to the ground, and stretched out his paws lazily, chuffing at her and waving his tail slightly. It was more out of obligation than anything-- obligation to the shriveled thing that was his conscience. Somehow it yet lived, though Nathaniel wasn't sure he had known it until his encounter with Burke.
He was confused when, for a moment, she seemed more scared of him than ever. The only thing he could think to do was mimic her movement (though in a less terrified way) and lay fully down, thinking any other movement might push her over the edge. She seemed more likely to run than snap, but Nathaniel had been wrong before.
Almost as soon as he had touched the ground, the red-cloaked girl stood, a nervous smile gracing her features. He didn't move, but chuffed again and gave her a moment to relax before he spoke.
Not planning on hurting you, girlie.
The ex-soldier rumbled, managing to seem both apologetic and exasperated. He noted her features, wondering if she was perhaps familiar with him in another life-- but no, she looked too young, and he did not recognize anything about her. Nat did find her eyes fascinating, the exact shade of green not being the brightest or the most common but still striking with their depth.
Then he was struck with a wonder, feeling behind it the familiar spark that said he was ready to be outraged if the answer was in the positive. Has someone hurt you?
Nathaniel couldn't see any visible wounds, but he had been a soldier once-- he knew there were crueller ways to hurt someone than injury.
At first Nathaniel wasn't sure what to think of the girl's sudden laugh-- he remained silent, expressionless for a moment as she stumbled over a response. Then, after a beat of silence, he grinned a bit wryly at her.
Well, you've been acting like a kicked pup.
The ex-soldier pointed out. I know mine's not the prettiest mug, but I didn't think I was that scary.
Well, that was a lie; Nat knew he could be downright terrifying, but typically it was when he was trying. It wasn't that often he came across someone who flinched if he breathed too hard at them, and when he did... well, they never had the most heartwarming of tales to tell. He did find himself somewhat glad that none had hurt the tiny girl, though. It was all too common to find life intent on kicking those who could not kick it right back.
I'm Nathaniel-- Nathaniel Rochester.
He offered, deciding he could at least give her something to call him during their encounter even if they never met again. But he did not ask for her name, rather doubting she would give it.
Just as he was about to inquire as to the reason, the girl's next words forced him to bite back another laugh. He kept his amusement hidden this time, mostly because he felt for her a bit; he still remembered how awkward he had been with girls in his youth, even the ones he didn't find appealing.
The ex-soldier chose not to respond to the statement, though his eyes flashed a bit more brightly when she said it. If he thought there was anything more behind it, he might have pursued it, if only to tell her to forget any notion of him being an option. Even at his worst, Nathaniel would not have been thoughtless enough to subject one who seemed so timid to the storm he held inside.
But such thoughts were irrelevant anyway-- they had just met, and thankfully there could not be more behind the fumbling words.
Mayfair, huh?
He stood and dipped his head. It was an unfamiliar but memorable last name, slipping off the tongue like music. It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Miss Mayfair.
Nat moved closer slowly, vaguely hoping she would not decide he was still going to eat her after all that. He sat down at a slight distance from her, ever-mindful of the (in his opinion) most important rule of all: personal space. Do you live here?
This smile lit up Mona's notably pleasant features in a way the previous, half-hearted one hadn't-- Nathaniel couldn't help but return it, though it was a strange expression to feel develop naturally on his own face. When had he last smiled out of anything but obligation or sick humor?
It was disconcerting to find he couldn't remember, so he shelved the thought in favor of what was turning out to be an interesting conversation. The words 'King Elk' caught his attention, but before he could ask for elaboration she was asking her own question.
No, I don't live here-- or anywhere, yet.
He explained, feeling oddly comfortable with answering. My former home lays in ruin, far from here.
The ex-soldier paused for a moment, mulling over the direction she had pointed before he spoke. We may soon be neighbors-- my father belongs to a pack near there...
Then he frowned. He couldn't remember the mention of a second pack nearby. Perhaps the same pack. Is the name Burke familiar to you?
He tilted his head slightly at her expression, then, a bit puzzled but not bothered enough to comment. Sensing discomfort from the girl, he smiled again and hoped it would help settle her.
The girl was... intriguing. He hadn't thought so when he first noticed her, terrified as she had been. Slowly, though, Nathaniel was beginning to think this interaction wasn't a complete mistake.
The ex-soldier generally wasn't fond of company; more often than not it left him full of anger and regret. He didn't mind talking to Mona, though. The fiery-pelted girl was obviously young, but well-spoken— not unpleasant to converse with.
Hmm.
Was the ex-soldier's only response to the information she gave about the pack. The pack that could have possibly been his father's, he reminded himself, and with that he stowed the information away.
Mona's question took him a bit off-guard; he hadn't considered such a thing. Did it matter anymore, what he wanted? He wanted Eirene back-- he wanted his children back. He wanted his life back. None of that could ever happen, though, and what did that leave him to want? What could he possibly want anymore from a world so obviously bent on taking back every gift it gave?
I haven't decided yet.
The ex-soldier said, finally. But you have given me something to consider. Thank you, Mona.
After a few seconds of silence on his part, Nat's lack of familiarity with truly friendly conversation-- and his lingering curiosity-- broke through and forced him to tack on a request. Tell me of this King Elk.
Nathaniel was undeniably charmed by the girl's telling of the tale. The excitement and wonder in her voice did not go unnoticed; it brought another smile to his face, drew him further into her words. The King Elk.
A formidable creature, he decided-- it brought him pleasure to know some of his kin recognized the beast as worthy of respect. He resisted the urge to chuckle at Mona's assertion that she would see it. It would not have been a mocking laugh, but the ex-soldier suspected it would be taken that way.
He didn't have much time to consider what he would say in response. The girl was wondering, now, if she might ask her own question. Nat studied her for a moment, trying to decide what to say. There were many questions he would not wish to answer, but it seemed unfair to say yes and then no, not that-- but he didn't want to say no, either, to the girl. After a few beats of silence, he made his decision.
Go ahead.
He was definitely relieved, but-- more than that, it was a bit of a shocking confession. Nathaniel's own family dynamic had been less than stellar; it didn't put him in much of a position to judge, though it was... unique. Flicking one ear back, he regarded her with curiosity for a moment. Clearly the story behind her origin was complicated, at the very least.
I used to live by the ocean— in a different land.
The ex-soldier admitted, thinking back a bit fondly to his time there. The coast where his pack had been forced to temporarily settle spent half the year smothered by storms, and the other half as a paradise. Nat had found the two states equally endearing, in their own ways; there was something oddly peaceful about the storms.
It had not been their home when they fell-- he often found himself wishing it still was their home. None of it might have ever happened.
But that was not the conversation at hand, was it? He continued: It's a beautiful place; unforgiving, but many beautiful things are harsh.
Then he paused, uncertain if the girl was wanting some kind of... advice. Nat wasn't the best at advice. This Tindómë— your new home. It sounds like a good start. If you use it well, I don't doubt you will achieve your goals.