Bearclaw Valley what mysteries we are

tags for reference!

he had left behind the mountain and the wood, and ranged forth like a salmon to its natal grounds. singularly minded, not intending to return, merrick walked, knowing @Astara would follow.
it was a harsh trek, sullied with snow, slowed by his half-healed wounds, but on he went, until the land grew more and more familiar, and lifted his head with pride and with remembrance.
here he had run with the girl whose name he refused to recall, here with indra, and here — yes, yes
here he had begun to live.
drawing a breath that shook with the great weight of his emotion, merrick called to his senses the bear spirit, standing at the mouth of the valley where he had been thrust into the world, amid blood, amid death. "you're home," the boy murmured aloud, a relieved smile spreading across his handsome features; it was for both of them that he spoke.

so terrible with anything past 1 character buuut gonna see if my dead muse for her lasts until christmas lmao

the blunt spires were not unlike those of the very behemoths which the vale itself was named after; curling and reaching and tugging into the frostfelled skies as if only wishing to rent heavens' belly open open open and let the shimmering entrails from another plane cascade out and out and out!—
it was one of the only beauties that might give odile will to again live; but for now, gold-limned ears lifted to hymnal notes. and then she was casting herself o'er snowd and fractured frond, to rest eyes on a male who merely speaks spiritual into air.

nothing is said, for now.

it was not long before he was attended by a woman wreathed in black, her gold accents drawing his eyes. but she was no astara, and therefore merrick found his initial intrigue fading. he would have pressed on into the valley had not the bear whispered to him
gather her
and so the boy turned back and flashed the newcomer an inviting smile. "i'm merrick," he greeted, no longer bothering to disguise his name. fully protected, now that the spirit burned within. "do you live around here?"

merrick:
"i am afraid not,"  the inked swan drawls, taking balefire eyes to touch their flame to the fronds of this place and dance along all the timber.  "i have recently arrived in these lands."  from the north, always the north — and whether out of a lapse in thought or elusion, the feathered thing does not yet give the smoky hushedness of her own name. instead:  "where might your dwelling be?"

"oh yeah? me too," merrick said of their journeys coming to an end here. she did not give her name, this black swan, but it was no matter. "well," he stated with a roll of his shoulders. "i was born here. so i guess the whole thing is mine?" a charming laugh; merrick's single eye lingered on her before he he began to carry forward into the valley.

"such is the way of inheritance, i think,"  the inked fowl purled, stepping forth to follow his draw into the beginning frosted florals of this cradled vale, pluskish plume shivering at hocks.  "and such was the way of my own realm, if the truth is needed,"  eyes glinting wry. "since you are in the place of your birthland — i presume? — what, then, are your plans for cultivating it?"

"this is a land of bears," merrick explained, motioning the raven to his side. "only by honoring them can we expect that they will give us their blessing to settle." his eyes began to sweep round for the sight of the dens housing the great ones. would it do to wake them without food to bestow? "have you ever seen a bear?"

and to his side did the rook flock; canting fine head, everbird. to settle in the lands of bjorn and to then honor them ... it was not as unfamiliar as another might percieve. not when cradlesongs of harrowing winter and their elusive wisps been sung.  "i have,"  she lows, glowing gaze trotting after his own.  "how they ransack realms ... cubs, or no. to offer a blessing, however ..."

how, exactly, would such a thing be conveyed?

the feathers of her dark cloak seemed to lift with the silken words that came next. merrick pondered her lack of faith. it was not misplaced or uncommon; it was good to have a healthy fear of the great ursines. but this was their world. wolves only inhabited it through grace. "a sacrifice," the boy murmured finally, calmly. one among them to have blood shed for the powerful spirit, and presently he turned his eye upon the dusky creature.

a sacrifice;
odile meets the sapphire eye with her own gilded gaze; level and understanding; unqualing. only ... further unabashed curiosity.  "what must be chewed off, then?"  —  a jest, for the sake of such focused airs. and yet there is something resigned in her own inked figure; but the łabędź continues to merely watch, wonder. anticipatory, nearly.

oh. he liked her. serpent slip backwards of lips; he shuffled his one-shuttered gaze toward her, not bothering to hide his glee. "why, anything you want," merrick soothed deadpan; he had stilled his tracks to at last look this proud glimmering corvid over.

the glutglee gaze  –  "far too magnanimous, you are,"
and then the taste of hide and flesh and iron and marrow; the squelch of splintering bone; the squeal of mothwing-thin tendon; altogether some concerto as the obsidian rook hewed with fang through the left second of fore-toe;
finishing off by plucking it from the clawtip and dangling it for the bruinboy with some coy, grotesque gaiety; wicked arch of winged brows unfurling imploringly:  where might i offer this?

a bit sniffle-nosed, a bit filmy-eyed; but it was a weakness that this mortal vessel could not help, she supposes.

merrick was watchful, then thrilled to see her raven head duck, the flash of reverent teeth as she sheared off a piece of herself.
bloodscent shimmered hot in the air.
he laughed, gleeful, awed.
a prancing step led her to a flat stone cleared of snow, half lifted from the banks. "here." an altar, upon which the first sacrifice for ursus would be laid.

i keep forgetting that this is like... 2mo OOF wanna wrap up?

and so it was there that the rook winged, promising to let herself preen for the time hereafter so as to not disgrace the presence of their behemoth and her future bruin rìgh.
daggermouth simper; laving bits of selfblood from lips  —  "i have several more to spare, of course."  perhaps she would become fair clubfoot, by the end of this moon or the next ...

fade?

teeth flashed in a pleased grin. "i am sure the bear god will tell you when he is in need," merrick declared excitedly.
"come with me."