Sequoia Coast i am the universe wrapped in skin

All welcome. @Kjalarr maybe? Tag for visibility but welcome to cameo/post as needed. Also vague becuase I don't know what's going down in the previous thread. Set just above dragoncrest cliffs.

The coast they reach is familiar to her, vaguely. She’d been here only a few months ago, before Gyda had given birth, with Gluskap and Dio. She’d helped with bringing back some herbs and perhaps while she’s here she might bring back a little seaweed to make use of her trip. With Gluskap gone, and his den still filled with herbs that she’s sure they can make use of. Portia would know what to do with them, and perhaps Uleon too. She’s just about to turn her head and say something to @Toxochelys when her jaws snap shut at the first sound of waves crashing against the sandy shores.

Her tail wags a few times and she forgets what she’d been intending to say, letting herself wander away from her guard to make it to the water. Her guard lingers back, moving to search the area of anyone, while she soaks in the salty air and mist freckling her coat, letting herself become one with the sea as it laps against her ankles.

It was not often that Kjalarr left the confines of Saltwinter. Only when the mood struck him, or when he was on official business. As the alpha male he felt a strict duty to remain and at time fought against the wandering bug when it bit him though allowing himself to do so only helped to sharpen his ranger skill (something he still had yet to earn). Besides, now that Floki knew where to find him if he wanted to visit it eliminated a lot of their having to wander and bump into each other upon circumstance. Sure, Kjalarr knew well enough where to find his better half twin but as there was a hefty price upon his head that called for his death Kjalarr hadn't been back to Moonspear.

This was a small trip of leisure. Kjalarr did not stray far — he presumed he was still in howling distance if Caiaphas or Maude needed him. It was nice to stretch his legs outside of a routine patrol and the viking took a simple pleasure from it, enjoying the brine, the sound of the ocean as it crashed upon the sands of the shore, pausing every so often to examine what treasures it had spit from it's depths. He'd examined a pretty blue shell that had been washed up upon the high tide, though to the color blind beast it was simply a light grey color. Unexciting and identical to other shells of that size and shape.

He kept moving, knowing that his monochromacy would never allow him to get into any sort of hobby like collecting things — except for maybe bones but that had such a macabre feel to it that Kjalarr (who had turned to cannibalism during the famine — I feel like this is an oxymoron or something) didn't bother. He wasn't really the “collecting” type, anyway. A scent both familiar and foreign to the Loðbrók wafted upon the salty air and without consciously deciding to he'd begun to follow it. He recognized the pack scent from the time he'd ran into Wildfire and her companion and curious was not something the viking had ever believed in stifling. He slowed as he came upon the scene, eyeing the male upon the shore before his attention went to the dark beast in the water. He let out a loud chuff as greeting and to announce his presence, wondering if it would be too unseemly to ask about Wifi's well being.

While Thuringwethil enjoys the feel of the salty water soaking into her fur, she knows she can’t linger in pleasure for long. Her purpose for coming to the shore may have been to settle her own soul but she knows to make use of the trip and her eyes scan the crevices of the river outlet for seaweed that may have washed up.

A chuff catches her attention, nose clouded with salt, and she glances over her shoulder to see a wolf she doesn’t recognize. Her gaze turns to Toxochelys then and she lifts her nose, hoping to keep him settled and in place—a guard is meant to remain a fixture in the background and to come forward when needed—and Thuringwethil pivots out of the water to approach the call.

“Hello,” she calls out and while she holds a dominant posture, she forces herself to relax in a neutral zone rather far from her home. She doesn’t know the nearby pack she’d passed on the last trip but his scent reminds her vaguely, if she’s able to recollect it clearly enough.

The sound of the crashing ocean stirred something deep within Toxochelys, and there was an undeniable part of him that wanted to join the Commander in the lapping waves. It was not his place, however; he was at her service. Although he hadn’t done it since becoming Kru, he would eventually, and alone, make a trip to the animate shores. For the time being and perhaps somewhat reluctantly, he tore his gaze away and prowled a protective perimeter, turning to keep one eye on Heda again only when he was at a distance. She deserved her space, and it was a veritable function of his commitment as a silent sentinel.
 
Much like before, in the valley, it wasn’t long before another showed himself and advanced on Thuringwethil’s position. This one was a robust beast of northern white who approached with quiet confidence. The tawny sea wolf watched with stoic calm and burning orange eyes, keeping his previous pace as he picked his way across the stony scape of the beach and jutting cliff face. Unlike the previous scenario, he was noticeable here, but he seemed as though he belonged and made no move to meet them or venture closer by any means. He alternated watching on with interest and flicking his eyes to the surrounding area and the sea’s choppy surf, content that nothing was amiss.

Kjalarr noticed, eyes watching as the dark woman submerged in the dark grey and frothing sea water received his loud chuff. She turned to face him. A glimpse was sent to the male that accompanied her cautiously, wanting to keep an eye on him. He wasn't sure their relation to one another — perhaps brother and sister? — but he didn't want to step on toes or give any misgivings. She calls out a greeting to him, and the viking notices her dominate posture and raises his head slightly, out of habit. It wasn't a challenge or particularly meant to disrespect her but whatever power she held she did not hold it here: just as he did not. On this neutral ground they were all equals, though he was close enough to Saltwinter to feel a bit territorial: though there were only certain territories that touched the Sound's borders that he felt truly territorial over as hunting grounds for Saltwinter's wolves.

“You're from Sleeping Dragon,” It was less of a question and more of an observation. He might not have clearly gotten the woman's scent over the salty brine of the sea but he could smell the male well enough. “I know Wildfire.” Kjalarr informed her, with a slight wag of his tail at the mention of her name. Guilt rose up as he thought that he probably should have paid her a visit by now, and should do so soon so she did not think he was avoiding her or being an ass or anything.

The male adjusts his posture and Thuringwethil isn’t blind to it. She’d been this way once before and traveled south with Dio and Gluskap in tow. They’d noted a pack nearby but it’s location unknown to her as they did not further investigate its whereabouts. Scouting hadn’t been their mission at the time and while it isn’t exactly their mission now, it doesn’t hurt to put either of their skills to good use. Her own posture softens, a fraction, as she nears, and she glances back to Toxochelys once as he remains in the background but his own posture down—though he remains on guard anyway—as she stands near the stranger.

His observation causes her ears to twitch and she nods her head, once, and moves to speak but he mentions a name that is enough to make her back track. She’d originally been curious to know how he knew of them, whether or bad tongue or not, but with Wildfire’s name on her ears, she isn’t sure what to make of it.

“Yes,” is all she says at first, making sure for a second time she doesn’t know the man standing before her. “I am Heda Thuringwethil. This is Toxochelys,” she adds with a slight tilt of her nose in the guards direction. “Wildfire is my head ambassador,” she explains, leaving out the more intimate details of their relationship. Not even her own following knows, to her knowledge, and broadcasting it now isn’t where she would like to spread such information.

Admittedly, the woman's name meant little to the Viking but he offered a sage nod to both of the Dragon wolves. “I am Kjalarr Loðbrók, Alpha Male of Saltwinter,” He introduced himself, gesturing with his muzzle towards the Sound before his gaze focused back upon Thuringwethil. The Heda — Kjalarr wasn't sure what it meant but he deduced it was an important title from her demeanor — spoke that Wildfire was her head ambassador. A fond smile tugged at the corners of Kjalarr's lips. Despite that things had not worked out for Wildfire and his twin, Floki, Kjalarr was glad to know that she was doing well for herself. He held no animosity towards his ex-sister in law. Wildfire would always be family to him. “Wildfire is family to me,” Kjalarr assured Thuringwethil, offering a sheepish smile. He did not say that she had once been his sister in law — such things were not his to indulge in, after all; instead he worded it to insinuate 'we're close like family, therefore she is family'. “I think I was invited to visit her sometime but it was kind of hard to hear over the drone of the locusts. Which was concidentally when I last saw her.” Kjalarr explained though the Heda had not asked for it. He was comfortable talking about Wildfire, especially to another who knew her and he saw no reason not to be honest. “I'm glad to hear that she's doing well.” Perhaps sometime in the future he would be able to steal some time to make the trek to Sleeping Dragon to visit Wildfire and catch up with her personally.

The male introduces himself with a name that surprises her. Gyda had more ties in the Teekon than she did and more than Thuringwethil had been aware. Thuringwethil never knew her birth parents or siblings, if she had any, and had never been given any insight on who they may be. If she’d met any of her relatives along the way, she’d never known it and it had been unlikely they knew her unless they were immediate but sworn to their silence on the matter.

“Do you know Gyda Loðbrók?” she asks then with a slight tilt of her head that she soon corrects. She’d met Floki some time ago further down the shore and it is only a little odd to find another. The woman’s family is far more expansive than she thought it to be but it should not surprise her as her reign in Odin’s Cove had been prosperous and she recalls, vaguely, the information that Ragnar had spread his seed in farther reaches than they all knew.

The idea that he may visit the dragon causes a little irritation to well up in her. Wildfire had been new during the famine but it wasn’t any harm to invite her friends back, should she have kept them on the outside, but Thuringwethil wasn’t that fond of visitors but now that she knew more, she couldn’t put any blame on the fiery woman. She had, after all, invited Floki to visit his sister.

“I am sure she would like for you to visit,” she says and if it turns out he’s related to Gyda, perhaps her former queen would be just as happy to see a relative.

Gyda. The name struck him as familiar, if vaguely. Yet, he knew this was only because he'd heard Thistle speak of his eldest sister on few occasions. Otherwise, he would not have remembered a woman he hadn't ever met. Hel knew he did not remember his own blood sister. Or so Ragna had vehemently argued she was. Floki was the only sibling he remembered, but that was likely simply because of the twin bond they shared. It was the uttering of the name Loðbrók that made the connection of her relation to him. They shared a father, which was not surprising to Kjalarr. He doubted there was much of anything that would surprise him when it came to Ragnar. “My elder sister,” Thought to be full blood, but he did not realize that in actuality their shared blood was through Thistle Cloud only. It mattered little. He drew in a breath and let out in a slightly cheeky, slightly sheepish grin. “One of them anyway.” The Gods alone knew how many he truly had walking Midgard.

“but I've never met her. I've only heard of her.” The Viking culture encouraged them to travel, to wander. To find themselves, to prove their worth, their strength. He offered a simple rise and fall of his shoulders to show that this fact did not bother him and was common, especially so among the Loðbrók's. “How do they fare? Gyda and Wildfire?” His curiosity was genuine as the question left his lips.

Thuringwethil wouldn’t deny anyone their family to visit, at least right now, for most of their wolves consist of recruits from other lands. Restricting them would only be seen as punishment for having not been born of their own kind and while they grow and become the same unit, operating well enough under heda that she need not worry so often, she would keep the permission open. If Kjalarr, friend or family to those she cares most about, she wouldn’t stop from him making the trip. If, upon confirmation, it turns out to be a lie, she’d hope he’d be smart enough to not bother upon her borders.

“They are well. Wildfire is my ambassador and Gyda is taking time to herself to raise her family,” she explains, thinking fondly of the children she bore. She’d been against the idea from the beginning, giving her only one option, and she’d managed to find her way around it and get what she wanted. A desire filled on both ends as Drageda’s next generation grows beneath her protective eye. "I must go. Perhaps we will see you soon." She says before she turns and moves closer toward Toxochelys before they depart.