Sunbeam Lair ❝merintel tirië nissi, híni i artassen mí tárë oronti,❞

Vaguely written & dated a day or so after this. For @Bhediya!

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she revisits the mem'ry of the fälscher in a veiling of lashes; the tips featherlight o'er the tome that tells the story of how she had beheld his eyes; traces over parchment, wherein the melody of his musings had been scripted. Cradled in this gentled, flushed chamber of ivies and petals and simple leaves; the fraying, earthy waft of sunlit autumn, she feels deeply at ease. And though she is unraveled with shivers which her  ( steadily so )  flourishing Court brings it is thoughts of the musiker which soothe her; end her.

Onwards she forages;
undressing as she goes all that which have brought uneasiness; all that which anchor heavy the pale shoulders but never the shy dimpling of shorn lips.

Once upon a time, when Andraste had been Aurëwen, she had surrendered to a full-throated wander. Had delved into the expressions of nature’s travails; had longed, untried, messy; had laboured, as birthblood met her unproven thighs. In the harvesting before both she had pored over all she could, of the seasons and the seeds. It all might have seemed like a thrashing rebellion, then; the wonderlost that had wended its way so wistfully through her.

Felled leaves; those drying plants;
her wolves were here and him—!

Growing pains; necessary, transitory beneath the Moonspire and all for the present. Foolish still, perhaps. It smolders like a star, and she is following its constellations as she had once so many moons ago; guided. Settled, if only for the realm she means to reign.

It wouldn't have mattered if Valette complied, Bhediya decided. Even if she knew what had come of her family, of Morningside, there would be nothing to do about it now. The children were grown and likely wanted nothing of their estranged dam but respect for their privacy. Bhediya wondered if they'd thought about her before they left. 

The monumental stretch of mountain peaks that kept watch over the valley seemed to have maintained its post. A smile crept across the ascetic's maw as she allowed herself to enjoy the moment of familiarity. 

---

There was an opening not far off from where Bhediya stood anxiously planning her approach. In a past life, she'd managed to cultivate a lavender patch within the safety of the cave. She remembered Arushi and the blue -- no, green, or perhaps brown? -- of the child's eyes.

Rabbit hung limp from her jaws, blood soaking the fur where she had broken it's neck with one swift close of her jaws. Still warm, she followed the scent of Andraste as she wandered from where the Court had gathered to a cavern nestled in the mountains.

The pale wolf caught her eyes and she drew nearer, dropping the rabbit once she was only tail-lengths from regent, lifting head slowly. The scent of another wolf hung on the air, drifting from the cavern. Andromaque looked past the pale wolf, frown tugging at the corners of darkened lips.

"I brought you a rabbit," she offered, lowering to nudge the creature forwards with her nose. The body had fallen cold while she walked to the caverns. "There's... someone in the caverns, too," she said, looking to the darkness with teal visage. "I can smell them."

Andromaque left her rabbit and ventured further towards the mouth of the cavern, entering the shadows with tail swishing slowly behind her. "I've caught a rabbit if you'd like to join us and partake in it," she called out, voice echoing against the cavern walls. She had grown softer since joining the Court, more willing to offer care to strangers. And, of course, one could never pass up the opportunity to recruit another wolf to the menagerie that Andraste had already assembled.

bloop short post

There is silence here;
confined, stark. Where some may find it eerie or oppressive in its weight, it is peaceful to the sybil. It contains a throng of soft, woody voices grown in queer quiet; these things become diminished and somnolent. But they are there, and the groaning of the Sunspire'd mountains have since ceased into mere creakings; it is not without caution, however, that the stricken treads and yet she cannot resist this olace and the phantasm of the mem'ry of the fälscher's hammer-heavy maw so gentle upon her brow. The thing with feathers and figments flutters about in her breast; not at all docile but entirely devotion; ruffles itself and her; soon quiets.

But another truly is here:
Andromaque, a felled rabbit reduced to puppetry within the firebrand's fangs. Immediate, the grumbling within her innards; as was the apologetic rouging of cheeks, nevermind how faraway her eyes would always now be. Her loyalist went on to bequeath the find to the stricken, to which she began to decline with all manner of polite downplaying—

—and as the auburn leaves from her to see to another, Andraste leaves the hare untouched; halfsight heady and lofty upon the inclinations of her follower.

The quiet echoing of a nearby voice drew Bhediya's attention. It took only a second for her trance to dissipate and for reality to materialize once more. Before she'd had time to react however, the voice and its owner began their approach. 

Bhediya took a few steps forward, being careful not to move too quickly. Curious green eyes gazed around the lip of the entrance and down into the cavern to see the russet femme and her blanchard. Hello, she called as she began a steady descent, I didn't mean to intrude.

Coal-coated wolf stepped forward and Andromaque watched with teal eyes trained carefully on her posture, her expression -- she moved slowly and steadily towards the duo and Andromaque looked briefly to her rabbit and then back to the obsidian fae. "You're not intruding," the russet wolf assured her quickly. "I had just caught this rabbit -- would you like to share it?" Andromaque asked, feeling generous and she knew Andraste would not eat until all her Courtlings had -- perhaps this wolf was another possible recruit.

Drawn into the evergreen depths with the burnished courtling was an inkfeathered and rather curious make of lupine — and as with all things that are curious by nature, the stricken would like to reach out and touch. To run the rose-peak of her shorn muzzle along the unfurled and dark drapery; to look into the delicate gaze. Of course she does.

But the willowisp only surrenders a gauzy smile of greeting; corners of waxen lips shying heavenward with attempted amiability. Andromaque's catch reminds unheeded, and instead she gives a kind cant of her marred skull and muses,  "Please, come and sup with us,"  argent halfsight finding the auburn once more in thanks, before returning to the quilled wolf:  "How has traversing ze earths been for yourself, strider?"

The welcoming attitude of the fae gathered within the cavern sent a chill of unease down Bhediya's spine. With the current state of the Wilds, it was curious to find a pairing so willing to share in their earnings. Nonetheless, the ascetic made her approach, albeit with obvious apprehension. I'm okay, she replied with a smile, hoping not to offend her potential assailants.

No, Bhediya thought to herself, They're just being nice. It might have been like Akuti to voice her concerns, or like Khoe to simply turn and walk away, but Bhediya was resigned to making the best of every situation. Well, that was the goal, anyway. I'm still alive, so. Other wolves hadn't been so lucky, but that was true whether voiced or not.

There was a pang of disappointment that accompanied the dark fae's words -- Andromaque had tried her best to be kind only to be denied. She looked to her rabbit and her tail swished behind her. Andromaque couldn't help the hint of a frown that tugged at the corners of her lips. 

She waited for Andraste to stop speaking before looking to the black wolf again, deciding she might as well introduce herself. "I'm Andromaque," she said.

tiny post for now!

"That is good, of course,"  the stricken muses, a mere acknowledgment to the inked's testament of survival alone. What she imagines must be thrilling tales of devious endeavors and drastic escapes are, however, dimmed by the quiet that has come to settle over the trio. But it is no matter—  "I hope that you have since found a place to rest your head?"  Either with others, or upon her lonesome; it would do the wanderess some good to find at least a speck of peace in the midst of life's hardships;
"We," halfsight taking in Andromaque,  "are two of a makings within ze Vale, in ze heart of ze Sunspires, if you wish to know. How good it is, to be able to harvest in such a place as this, no?"

Not necessarily promotion; but perhaps it would still be of some benefit to the inkdaubed now in their company?

it was difficult to fight the unsurety that bubbled in the scout's gut. a part of her duty was communing with strangers; if this was the trade that she truly wanted to pursue, bhediya thought that she ought to suck it up and make her move.

there were only a few steps between them when she finally settled. hesitantly, bhe sniffed at the rabbit and licked at its corpse but ultimately declined. bhediya, she offered, smiling at both of the women. it's a really nice place, yeah. the mountains had always entranced her, though until now, she'd never had time to do her due diligence in exploring them.

you have a pack here? the scout asked, intrigue clear in her voice. what's it called?

permission to pass maq!
tiny tiny post lmao sorry

If there were any qualms to be shown with the so-named Bhediya's declination of supper, it was not writ upon the silver's face. As far as the telling of such a claim as theirs, the specter smiled gentle:  "Courtfall,"  absently looking aside to the quiet Andromaque,  "for refuge must lie somewhere, should it not, when ze winters are so very near, no?"  The winter winds — and the whelps that would too come out of it. Then:  "Might you have such a claim, whereabouts, of your own? For when ze cold is to come?"

it's all good! wanna wrap this?

knowing that her counterparts had some degree of common sense put bhediya at ease. those who chose to wander, even during the winter months, were ignorant and childish. the smart thing to do was settle, especially if the claim was one's own. 

the scout nodded. there's a marsh over the mountain. the group is small, but... she trailed off while deciding how to phrase their predicament. we're making progress. courtfall, the sylph called it. bhe thought to ask ibis about their name once she returned home.

speaking of home, it wouldn't be long before she would be missed. bhediya wondered if the women would let her leave or if their conversation would continue.

sure 0: we can archive whenever

"Progress will always be progress,"  came the assuring words, whether the dark wisp wished for them or no.  "Even ze littlest amount will amount to your intentions, in ze end."  Seeming to think likewise, Andraste advised her follower to rise,  "May you have much luck in ze times to come,"  before giving a final nod of departure from the Lair; they must return to their own, as well.