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Arrow Lake The fires of Mount Doom. - Printable Version

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The fires of Mount Doom. - RIP Njal - March 16, 2014

Set prior to the cougar attack at SC.

A full day had passed between the moment where Xi'nuata was dismissed from the creek borders and this moment, as Njal believed he had a bit of work to do around the home to correct the issues her arrival had brought up. He had talked with Tuwawi briefly, and gone on to patrol the borders - as his duty called him to. But Njal's path diverted when it passed alongside the river, and the connected lake. He caught the dim scent of the mountain woman and began to follow it. His path led him up the mountain alongside the lake, and carefully near the descending sheet of water that connected Upper Arrow Lake with the lower portion he was most familiar with. Hours passed and he worked his way up, pausing to rest or to drink, but generally not relaxing for long.

It was dangerous work when all he wanted to do was apologize. Njal reflected back upon the look that Xi held when she was dismissed. She was hurt, angry. If there was some way to salvage their friendship then Njal would pursue it, even if it meant hiding his intentions from his own wife. Tuwawi would no doubt be infuriated if she were to find out about his little adventure - and while Njal thought he could trust her, talk her out of any burning anger, he wasn't sure if their relationship could take it. Just having Xi'nuata on the borders had made things.. Different in the following hours. He had to get away from that feeling, even if it meant seeking out the cause of all the problems.

Njal stopped to look out across the land below him. He was not affected by vertigo like other wolves, as he felt at home on the mountains. A little less at home now that he was an established member of the creek pack, but, it was ingrained within him. The feeling of mountain trails upon his paws was familiar. It was calming. The man paced along the edge of the high water, dipping his face near the surface in order to lap at the cool fluids; his senses drifted. His thoughts, evaporating. For a time Njal was taken by the beauty of the mountains - but it wouldn't last. At some point she would find him here. Her scent was strong, so she had to be close.1




RE: The fires of Mount Doom. - Xinuata - March 16, 2014

In times of bother, one found their comfort in the things that reminded them of home, or in any instance brought them calm where the words of others might fail. Rather than seek out the warm presence of her denmate and companion, since her dismissal from the Creek, the warrior had chosen a hole in the mountain to find peace. But even in the cramped crevice, there was only so much security she could find in the earthen walls. Only so much calm she could attain before sadness crept into the delicate flesh of her heart.

She has been shunned away many a time in her prior home. It came with the territory of being a traded female rather than one born and raised in the fold. But never had she been dismissed by one she called friend and trusted. It was a strange, hurtful feeling that took a while for her to realize that it stemmed from assuming her presence was no longer wanted. And it worsened when such words had indeed fallen from the mouth of her mentor. She did not believe herself deserving of the consequence, and yet she was forced to endure it none the less. She had lost something precious while the Creek carried one dismissive of their transgression. Such a backwards way of looking at things, and she could not begin to wrap her mind around it.

By the afternoon of the following day, her thoughts had not changed. Still she clung to the disbelief of their audacity, but it had lessened somewhat as was the result that came with time. With some internal motivation, she managed to peel herself from the inner walls of her keep to fill her lungs with the warming mountain air… yet in doing so she caught the wisps of a scent nearby. An all too familiar scent that brought her hackles to stand on end. They had only just dismissed her, now did they seek to further drive their teeth into the still fresh wound?

Merciless.

Soundlessly, she emerged from the den assuming claim to a rock adjacent to her hideaway. With head high and tail curled, she surveyed the lay of the rocky scape in earnest, hoping to find hide or tail of the Creek wolf before they crossed nearer to the Vale. She glimpsed a shock of white then among the rocks, familiar in its coloration that it elicited a draw of her lips and a rattling call for attention. Why on earth was he here now?




RE: The fires of Mount Doom. - RIP Njal - March 16, 2014

The rumbling of a familiar voice made the man grow rigid and defensive, although once he landed his gaze upon the dominant and irritated figure of the woman, his own posture dropped. He tried to ease up on the stiffness in his limbs but it was difficult; his senses were being overwhelmed by the scent of pack, one that he did not ascribe loyalty to, and his natural response was to be defensive. Njal had come here to set things right., To extend an olive branch to the wounded girl. He hoped to kindle some kind of relationship with her; for their friendship had just been budding when it had been so unceremoniously pruned.

With his eyes upon her silhouette - and dragged quickly to her paws, to the earth and then to the water's edge - Njal waited for her anger to cool a little. When this did not happen, he lifted his head and faced her properly. The man wasn't about to hide from her, he was here to talk. He would not defer to her in any manner, no matter how offended she may be, no matter how right her anger might feel to the both of them.

Njal took a step towards her looming figure, but paused long enough to consider his thoughts, and come up with something to say. He hadn't thought about it as much as he wished, and now she was right here, and he had to explain himself. "Xi'nuata, I want to apologize." The idiot blurted first, feeling his ears instinctively flick back against his head as a physical manifestation of guilt and apology; "I had to drive you away for the safety of my pack. If I had talked about our arrangement before the strain that Jinx has placed upon your home," He caught himself there, realizing he had named the wolf who had entered the territory without provocation, proven that they were one of the creek wolves. A known fact, but, it still felt like some kind of betrayal to the creek to speak it aloud. With a clearing of his throat, Njal continued. "If I had told our leader earlier, then we would not be having an issue. I just want you to know I am still interested in training you. I just... Cannot do it at the creek. Not right now."

And he wasn't going to bring this to the attention of Fox for a long while either, lest it come back to haunt him - but now that he was here before Xi'nuata, Njal realized that this moment could haunt him similarly, should news of it reach home. "I am still your friend." He admitted, albeit a little grimly as his posture slightly lessened. Golden eyes shifted away from Xi in deference the same way it would to Fox, and began carefully tracing the lake's muddy edge.




RE: The fires of Mount Doom. - Xinuata - March 16, 2014

As anger and rage were quite new to her experience, a fortunate effect was that she hardly had the means let alone motivation to hold onto it for long. Though ‘hurt’ was easy. Hurt was a well-known expression endured for more seasons than she cared to admit. And with it came the ease of masking it, letting it fall behind the solidifying façade of indifference as Njal expressed his intentions.

Apologize?

The word echoed in her mind, its reverberations knocking against her fortified resolve until it began to ebb one crumbling fragment at a time. No one had ever come to apologize to her, but the novelty of it only lasted as long until the announcement of the transgressor’s name was given. And even then her face remained hard, unmoving, as if the wind itself dared not to stir the hairs of the stone visage. Drawing upon that anger from the memory of that day would serve her no purpose now and was better left alone. She was more composed than to lash him with her anger especially, when he had not taken part in the breech of her pack’s security. However, there was a dark sect of her mind that would have favored equal torment, if only to instill the same unrest that pale female had given to her brethren. Instead, she breathed deeply through dark, flaring nostrils, and expelled the breath slowly through the gradual part of her weathered jaws.

“I cannot accept your apology, as it was not your actions that brought this complication…” exhaling, she leapt from her pedestal to stand on level ground. Minding their proximity, she remained closest to the mountain as if in its great mass she would find the strength to remain on her own four paws. Letting her eyes fall to the ground, she looked anywhere but to the earth dusted paws of her mentor. “I do not understand why it would matter if you need word from your superior,” she expressed, unembarrassed by her ignorance in the Creek’s inner workings. “Nor do I understand how you would call me ‘friend’-“ meekly, her ears folded back against her head “-when just as easily you claim I am unwelcome when I have done nothing wrong.”

There had been hope when told of his interest to continue their training, but it was fleeting when reminded of the complications of their arrangement. For one reason or another, it seemed that the Creek wolves were not kindly to the Vale; a reality that left the warrior terribly uneasy. Had it been on part of the Vale, she could have taken what methods she could have to resolve it, but since it was not on their part, she was at a loss of what to do. And because of this, she did not foresee the hope in a continued arrangement lasting for long.




RE: The fires of Mount Doom. - RIP Njal - March 16, 2014

As she descended from her perch, Njal turned his attention to her. “I cannot accept your apology, as it was not your actions that brought this complication…”. The creek wolf was a bit confused by her words, but said nothing. He watched as dust shifted upon the soil, and trailed his gaze along her lean limbs - remembering when they were bulky, layered in winter fat and far from toned - to rest his eyes upon her features. She was passive, for the most part. Njal couldn't tell if she was internalizing things or if she genuinely was calm about the situation. He didn't feel calm; even as she took a few careful steps towards him, the man's tail whisked at the melting snow.

The motion froze when she talked about their friendship, casting it away from her the way he had cast her from the pack's borders. Njal found a tinge of pain stab at his chest, for her words did wound. Maybe it was justified for the way he had treated her - gone back on his word and banished her - but still, it hurt. Njal became a blank figure; empty-faced and once again rigid in his mannerisms, as he lifted his head and assumed the prideful dominance of a wolf with high ranking. It mattered little to him that he was outside of the creek lands now. Clearly she would not accept his words, so he would just have to roll with it.

"You may not have done something wrong," He responded after a moment to gather himself, his voice holding a brooding deep quality like that of a mentor teaching a child. In this moment Njal realized just how ignorant Xi'nuata was of the world around her. How different was this vale from the other packs in the wilds? "But you are not family. My family consists of the wolves who follow Fox. You are only unwelcome because you hail from a rival pack." Until now, of course. Now Njal was not so sure. If she continued to refuse his offers of friendship, there would be no reconciliation. The trip to these lands was for nothing.

"My offer stands. I am your friend. If I was not, I would have stayed at home with my wife and my leader. Both of whome I have lied to to keep you from harm." He admitted this freely, perhaps because of a rising level of frustration with the woman. Njal stepped towards her briskly, but froze before he was too close, unable to contain his agitated energy. "Do not forsake me, and all the work we've done together to improve your abilities, just because of some hurt feelings." She needed to get over it. But so did he - and at this point, it was a case of the pot calling the kettle black. Njal was just as hurt as she was, now. And he was intent on rectifying things.

"Nuata," He breathed her name, exhaling as much of the frustration as he could, "I am trying to make things right with you. If you refuse me then I'll leave - but I won't come back again. Our friendship will be over." And maybe it should be over. Maybe it should not have started - for surely it has been more work than any other relationship he's ever cultivated. Still, he lingered. Hopeful and eager to fix what he had broken.




RE: The fires of Mount Doom. - Xinuata - March 16, 2014

Family, unlike ‘wife’, was indeed a word she knew. However rather than fond sentiments and strengthened bonds of loyalty, in her mind it was a tattered hide woven layered in broken promises and betrayal- well-weathered and strained until it was an ugly sight to behold. To hear of it again made her lips quiver somewhat, yet she kept herself in check, choosing to conceal her teeth rather than allow her dislike blossom further. Instead she listened, and deeply in the hopes of understanding just where this man was coming from. The complications he himself endured, they did not seem to make sense to the warrior’s mind. Was knowing her such a burden that he needed to lie to his companion and leader? Were the consequences of their arrangement that severe?

Her muzzle was clasped shut lest she repeat her confession for the third time on the situation. But the scrunch of her brows were sure to betray her as would the questioning cant of her muzzle to the side. It was no fault of the Vale, her ignorance. She had lived a life within a den away from the deeper workings of her home. She was only told what she needed to know. All other quips of knowledge were scrounged by her own experiences and luck. But what she could understand, when all else failed, was the voice of sincerity regardless of its accent.

Timidly, she lowered her nose to look down at a large paw, watching as it moved seemingly on its own accord to push and brush bits of rock to and fro. “Our friendship is important to me…” mumbling her confession, she pushed a small rock away with a blunt claw. Her ears perked forward to the sound of its clatter against the earth, then drew back as she continued as softly as per usual. “I wont refuse you. If I did, I would gain nothing, and would lose someone important.” She paused, suddenly feeling a tightness in her throat making it difficult to speak. “But I,” quietly, she cleared her throat. “…can you be certain our friendship would not cause you trouble?” The last thing she wanted was her desire to make another’s life more difficult, even if it was him that offered to continue their bond.




RE: The fires of Mount Doom. - RIP Njal - March 16, 2014

She shifted slightly and his ears twitched; flicking out on either side of his head, while the skin of his lips tightened across his teeth. Something about the way she moved had made him jumpy. Cautious. Defensive. He resisted the urge to lift his own lip and flash his fangs, knowing it was not the kind of behaviour that would help. Instead, as his words descended upon her and fell to silence, Njal was forced to wait. He watched her. Xi played with the rocks at her feet in a coy manner, which somehow... Made his chest swell and face heat, but only just. Attributing this to his frustration, the man thought little of it; and then when the woman began to speak, he listened. Attentive to the extreme.

Her words exposed her ignorance. The level of oblivion that she must be living in - or had been living in, as the case may be. Njal had no knowledge of the life she had come from prior to living in the wilds, only that her body had once been a malleable mound of mud, and he had shaped it. The man was proud of her for coming this far, proud of himself - selfishly so, perhaps - and was not willing to pack down or let her break away from him just yet. Her question, although slow to emerge and muted in it's manner, caught him by surprise.

“…can you be certain our friendship would not cause you trouble?”
"Nuata." Njal caught her name falling from his lips before he could stop himself - and more importantly, he moved to intercept her, but caught control of his body before anything dire could happen. He was face to face with her and closer than before, which was in itself a dangerous situation. "If anything, our friendship could help both of our packs. Maybe they'll learn to get along as well as we do." It was doubtful, but at this point Njal was grasping. He did not want to lose her, for reasons he couldn't at this point understand. It was more than her friendship that he craved, more than the training that he valued, but these things could not be put in to words. They couldn't be formed in to concious thoughts, leaving him a bit confused by how forward he was behaving.

But, he hoped his words were enough for her.




RE: The fires of Mount Doom. - Xinuata - March 17, 2014

He was near her before she had a chance to spy his moment, but it was a fault of her own for looking at her paws. It was not by her name that she raised her head to look at him, but the sudden rush of warmth passed from living body in motion against the brisk air. He did not touch her, but she felt his presence as if the physical barrier had been breached. And in the same regard she felt the hairs of her nape stand on end, her heart quicken and breath still, as if the slightest movement would be the catalyst of some unknown event. In her stillness, she might have forgotten the reason for his visit had the gravity of it not weighed itself so heavily. She had to remind herself of it, as umber and gold caressed the contours of his muzzle to rest at its bridge.

Did he really believe that? Did she for that matter?

But then, had it not been the act of one that effected the two wholes so completely? Perhaps something positive could come from the continued interaction, as long as it was tended to gently and moderated with care. She was a perhaps a fool to believe that such things could happen simply because they were said. But rather she struggle with a glimmer of hope to hold fast to, than surrender to pessimism without so much as trying. Only time would tell if this slim possibility became a reality. And looking to him, as the corners of her lips rose faintly, she hoped the fates would be willing, and the minds of the others open.

“I suppose, we will see then,” remembering to breathe, she exhaled softly, and she smiled lightly in her relief. Feeling the tension ebb somewhat, she even went as far as to extend her muzzle and tap it lightly against a whiskered cheek. A friendly gesture, one she shared often with her superior. A sign of trust and care, and a solidifying bond that indeed they would still remain friends.




RE: The fires of Mount Doom. - RIP Njal - March 17, 2014

The manner in which she so sullenly watched her paws made Njal feel a bit rejected. That she could not even look at him - yet after his words, after a brief retort from her own lips, she did lift her head. Their eyes locked for a moment and it seemed as if a current of energy thrust from her and in to him; he felt a strange warmth which grew stronger when she moved to press her nose against his cheek. It was the same mannerism that Tuwawi often doled out when they were together. Xi'nuata was brief and as she pulled away from him, deferring finally to their renewed friendship, Njal found himself stepping closer still. He was careful as he did so, not abrupt, and reached for her in the same manner that she had for him, just moments prior. The man's silver face lightly pressed to her cheek, affirming their bond, but lingered a touch too long. Njal thought he could feel some kind of warmth in that moment, an electric spark that magnetized his steely body to her own - and he pulled back, seemingly reluctant.

Now he would have to turn and leave. The conversation was at a lull, they had hashed out their issues and come out of the tense moment, so he did not need to linger. The wolves of Swiftcurrent would not be missing him yet. Njal was known for taking his time with his patrols, with being thorough. He did not have to leave yet, or so the little voice within him said. The heat that travelled along his belly, new and quite perplexing. Njal swallowed a lump in his throat as he turned to depart, his efforts sluggish, unwilling to break away from the new tension in the air, the pull that she had somehow cast upon him. The poor man did not realize how dangerous it was for him to linger now, in these very moments.




RE: The fires of Mount Doom. - Xinuata - March 17, 2014

To be lost in ignorance was both blessing and curse, as it awarded the mind the pleasures of not knowing, and damned it with the burden of not understanding. The deeper bonds between the soft grey male and his wife were distant from her comprehension, that she did not think of it at all for the moment. Even when the warnings of uncertainty rang soundly in her ears. Rather than heed their tones, she was fixed by her ignorance, damning herself for not understanding the pull elicited by a single touch, nor the cause for warmth that brewed from her belly to touch her cheeks. It was pleasant, undeniably, but she could find nothing in her mind to compare this impression to. Let alone a reason why a small, lengthened touch would react with her so. The new was frightening, yet thrilling, worth the bold progressive step to follow his retreat.

They had fallen silent inevitably. Now with a resolution there was no need for either to speak, let alone linger. Yet she did not step away nor did she allow him to do the same- not without a slight hindrance to his progress. Smoothly she slipped forward to cross the path of his retreat, a broad shoulder jut forward to bar him for a moment as again she nudged her muzzle forward to press against the length of his own.




RE: The fires of Mount Doom. - RIP Njal - March 17, 2014

He moved to leave and it felt as if his limbs had been grabbed by the mountain itself. Held firm but with enough give to allow a few steps. She was swift and sudden, a flash of pale bronze like the embodiment of the very mountain they stood upon; caressing him carefully, a silent command to stay. Heat once again flourished. It spread deeper now, past his belly and in to his groin; no doubt the seeds of spring being planted early. Njal had felt something similar to this but only with his wife - his fire, his star, the woman who he should be with now - but the tempting touch of this mountain woman had him firmly locked in place. His fur prickled upon his haunch, his shoulders, and Njal found himself moving as if under the control of something otherworldly as he moved to caress her as well. A brief slip of his boxy face against her more regal one, a bonding moment that drew them closer and closer. Njal's body grew rigid but it was different from the hostility that he had experienced the last time he had encountered Xi'nuata; this was more primal, and very hard to ignore. He sighed a sharp breath in to the fur of her nape and breathed the musty scent of earth that perfumed the dark patches there; entwined, snared despite the distant knowledge that he should not be here. But it was difficult to pull away.



RE: The fires of Mount Doom. - Xinuata - March 17, 2014

It was becoming increasingly difficult to part, yet the better part of her resisted as if there was no need. Her thoughts of consequence were far and in between, lost in the muddled hues of pale grey and soft white. At a better time, she might have considered her actions as an outsider peering in, but her mind was deeply enthralled in the moment, succumbing to both warmth and the strange comfort derived by so intimate a touch. It was not all like what she shared with her lead; their little game bringing her glee then falling away when she felt her actions too juvenile. But this… this was different in all sense. Her heart did not hammer with the excitement of a game, but the slow, rhythmic stirring, churning the heated blood through veins fully opened. Her body felt heavy, near lulled by his touch. The breath on her nape that sent a chill along her spine. The fine weave of pale grey into wild curls of soft gold…

…marred only by the soft patter of cold against her nose.

Eyes unintentionally closed snapped open as the sobering droplets began to fall. Each drop, a needle permeating the thick flesh, made worse by the warmer state of the victim body. They began slowly, more a note for attention as they fell quietly on the rocks, then grew with intensity as the full width of the hovering cluster of clouds drifted overhead.




RE: The fires of Mount Doom. - RIP Njal - March 17, 2014

At first he did not notice as the precipitation began above them. Njal didn't even hear it - for the blood was pounding through him. Catching in his ears and deafening; but he was not blind to her. Despite the lust that coursed unobstructed through the man's body, he saw the quiet that settled upon her with the rain. Her eyes closed and in that moment, without their eyes locked further, the spell appeared to be broken. The heat within him was strong but so was the suddenly sharp touch of the oncoming spring; a reprieve from a higher power, maybe. It was enough to make him realize what was going on, at least to a point. Njal was oblivious to the reasons for why he stayed, but he latched upon the opening to flee - and was suddenly absent from her side. He pulled himself away as if lodged in quicksand; each step harder than the last, yet lightened by the drops. Xi'nuata had a peaceful expression on her face and it did not last very long. A breath. A pull away. With a deep inhalation of the wetness in the air, Njal felt cleansed. He turned from her fully and departed, carefully - but quickly - following the edge of the lake and down the mountain, towards his waiting wife.

[exit!]


RE: The fires of Mount Doom. - Xinuata - March 17, 2014

By cooling rain, the spell once cast had been broken, and with it the contact that had bound them together. She was quite at peace even when she found herself rather suddenly along in the midst of a heavy pour. The roar of the rain became deafening, but she hardly noticed, as the sound of her heart hammering in her ears had become all she knew. She could not feel her legs or any other part for that matter. Just the steady, heavy rhythm of her heart. Never had she felt such a way before now. But then, she had never felt so at peace yet terrified at the same time. It was thrilling.

She lingered a moment more upon her ledge, then gradually found her paws again to move. It was much too late to return to her haven, and chose instead to return to the thick of the Vale woods. All the while she wondered, even long after the scent of the Creek had faded, if her lead had ever felt such a way before. Or was she alone in this strange wonder… and would she ever feel it again.

[Exit]