August 15, 2016, 11:43 AM
Life, she thought, cannot get much better than this. Curled in her love's embrace, the crash of waves distant but sweet to her ears. These were the times she could shut her eyes and just be; not quite pretending there was no such thing as hunger or sickness or pain, but knowing that, for the moment, it didn't matter. That for that moment, she was completely safe and wholly saited.
There were times when her love for this man overwhelmed her, and there were times when it seemed like just enough.
"Much has happened - Sweet Lagertha has been teaching me how to protect our family, and I went on a journey to the place where Skellige first found me. On the way back, I met the alpha of Donnelaith."
At this, a dark look came into the shewolf's eyes. "She did not know of our pack, Sy. What does our king mean to do with them? I know he is fond of Deirdre, but what of her pack? And why didn't he tell us?"
This was something she'd been unable to keep off her mind, lately. It was not her nature to question leadership, but the encounter with Donnelaith's wolves had shaken her, and she sought assurance that all was still well, and that her master had not meant to do harm in his discretion. It would be an easy task for her love, if he did undertake it - she already knew that she'd done harm with her indescretion.
There were times when her love for this man overwhelmed her, and there were times when it seemed like just enough.
"Much has happened - Sweet Lagertha has been teaching me how to protect our family, and I went on a journey to the place where Skellige first found me. On the way back, I met the alpha of Donnelaith."
At this, a dark look came into the shewolf's eyes. "She did not know of our pack, Sy. What does our king mean to do with them? I know he is fond of Deirdre, but what of her pack? And why didn't he tell us?"
This was something she'd been unable to keep off her mind, lately. It was not her nature to question leadership, but the encounter with Donnelaith's wolves had shaken her, and she sought assurance that all was still well, and that her master had not meant to do harm in his discretion. It would be an easy task for her love, if he did undertake it - she already knew that she'd done harm with her indescretion.
August 23, 2016, 04:01 PM
A low, rhythmic hum of pleasure took residence in Szymon’s throat as he listened to his Doe speak; a bitter wave of possessiveness mingled with jealousy arose as she spoke of Lagertha’s teachings, but it was clear to him that the lessons brought her joy and purpose — he could begrudge her nothing. So long as Lagertha understood the preciousness of her counterpart, Szymon could say nothing to dissuade the scrappy little witch doctor. His interest was piqued when she mentioned the alpha of Donnelaith — he did not know the female and supposed that he should, if only to be able to identify her should the need arise — but her moment of doubt captured his attention entirely as he gazed down upon her with furrowed brow and a bass rumble of concern.
Her concerns were valid, but Szymon was of little help; he was fanatically devoted to his brother, but he knew as much — or as little — as Doe did. Too, if Skellige wanted information known, he would make it so. Perhaps there was a reason he had not disclosed information to his pack; perhaps he was waiting for something Doe and Szymon could not see. The behemoth was a tactician as well as a warrior — he had to be, in order to have survived so long. Helplessly, the black-banded Cairn shook his head. “I don’t know, Doe,” he admitted. “In times of war, many p-plans are kept s-secret, even f-from family.” Hesitation stilled his tongue, but he pressed onward, his teeth and tongue beginning anew their rhythmic ministrations to soothe and settle his odd-eared Chosen One’s jumping nerves. “Sometimes especially from family. My s-sister Ksenia,” he ventured further, his deep, bass timbre fanning against her throat, “m-may yet raise an army; Skellige and I spotted her in th-these wilds but l-lost track of her. S-Sometimes war — and alliances — m-mean waiting in s-silence.”
He mulled over the idea for a moment. Doe’s faith in Skellige was as fanatical as Szymon’s own; only a deep shaking of her core beliefs and understanding could have aroused such unsteadiness. In any other wolf, Szymon would not have gone through the trouble of offering comfort and counsel — a brusque, “Skellige is to be trusted. He is Leviathan,” would have more than sufficed. Yet Doe was special to him in a way he still could not coherently define. “Were they cruel to you,” he questioned flatly, an unspoken, “Whose legs do I need to break?” running a bitter undercurrent to his words. Naturally, he would still any urges to maim the wolves of Donnelaith — Skellige had not commanded it and Szymon would not color outside of the lines in that regard — but he would certainly regard the unknown ones with far more reservation than he had been. “You are safe here,” he murmured, smoothing his tongue across her brow. “Skellige and I will keep you safe.”
Her concerns were valid, but Szymon was of little help; he was fanatically devoted to his brother, but he knew as much — or as little — as Doe did. Too, if Skellige wanted information known, he would make it so. Perhaps there was a reason he had not disclosed information to his pack; perhaps he was waiting for something Doe and Szymon could not see. The behemoth was a tactician as well as a warrior — he had to be, in order to have survived so long. Helplessly, the black-banded Cairn shook his head. “I don’t know, Doe,” he admitted. “In times of war, many p-plans are kept s-secret, even f-from family.” Hesitation stilled his tongue, but he pressed onward, his teeth and tongue beginning anew their rhythmic ministrations to soothe and settle his odd-eared Chosen One’s jumping nerves. “Sometimes especially from family. My s-sister Ksenia,” he ventured further, his deep, bass timbre fanning against her throat, “m-may yet raise an army; Skellige and I spotted her in th-these wilds but l-lost track of her. S-Sometimes war — and alliances — m-mean waiting in s-silence.”
He mulled over the idea for a moment. Doe’s faith in Skellige was as fanatical as Szymon’s own; only a deep shaking of her core beliefs and understanding could have aroused such unsteadiness. In any other wolf, Szymon would not have gone through the trouble of offering comfort and counsel — a brusque, “Skellige is to be trusted. He is Leviathan,” would have more than sufficed. Yet Doe was special to him in a way he still could not coherently define. “Were they cruel to you,” he questioned flatly, an unspoken, “Whose legs do I need to break?” running a bitter undercurrent to his words. Naturally, he would still any urges to maim the wolves of Donnelaith — Skellige had not commanded it and Szymon would not color outside of the lines in that regard — but he would certainly regard the unknown ones with far more reservation than he had been. “You are safe here,” he murmured, smoothing his tongue across her brow. “Skellige and I will keep you safe.”
August 23, 2016, 11:05 PM
Doe hung on his every word - the steady timbre of his voice seemed to have knocked the wind out of her, and she daren't breathe, lest she miss even a syllable or else cause him to stumble once more. For it was not only his voice that she cherished, but his words as well. They were like a balm to the sore feelings that her encounter with Con and the alpha had left her with, and she believed in them as surely as she believed in Skellige and his cause.
It made sense. Anything would make more sense than Skellige leading them astray, wittingly or no. Whatever he had planned for Donnelaith, she would do her part. That he had not yet told her what her part would be was nothing for her to worry about - she would know at her master's appointed time, and not a moment before.
Thankful to be comforted so, she peppered her love's face with greatful kisses, her tongue laving over the little shiny-pink pock-marks still left over from his encounter with the gryfalcons.
"No, they were not cruel," she assured him with another placating swipe of her tongue. "They were afraid, and so was I - but only that I had ruined the plans of our leader. Not of them." Her ministrations turned to his sensetive ears, now, as they were often wont to do. "Because I know that you will protect me - you and Skellige, and the rest of our pack. But mostly you."
It was strange to think back to that day, now that she was back in Szymon's embrace. She could still remember when returned to him had been her sole objective, all desire to repair Skellige's image forgotten in her longing for the black-ribbed male. She'd known that if she could just get back to him, everything would be alright - and how right she'd been! She was with him, and everything was perfect. Because he was strong, and because he was hers, and a little because she was his, too. They belonged to each other, and she would share in all that she owned.
"Tell me about your family," she said suddenly, interest piqued by the mention of Ksenia - Doe hadn't known he had siblings other than Skellige and Leokadia, and was interested to know what other family she would be taking on if she and Szymon were granted permission to make their Vows to each other.
It made sense. Anything would make more sense than Skellige leading them astray, wittingly or no. Whatever he had planned for Donnelaith, she would do her part. That he had not yet told her what her part would be was nothing for her to worry about - she would know at her master's appointed time, and not a moment before.
Thankful to be comforted so, she peppered her love's face with greatful kisses, her tongue laving over the little shiny-pink pock-marks still left over from his encounter with the gryfalcons.
"No, they were not cruel," she assured him with another placating swipe of her tongue. "They were afraid, and so was I - but only that I had ruined the plans of our leader. Not of them." Her ministrations turned to his sensetive ears, now, as they were often wont to do. "Because I know that you will protect me - you and Skellige, and the rest of our pack. But mostly you."
It was strange to think back to that day, now that she was back in Szymon's embrace. She could still remember when returned to him had been her sole objective, all desire to repair Skellige's image forgotten in her longing for the black-ribbed male. She'd known that if she could just get back to him, everything would be alright - and how right she'd been! She was with him, and everything was perfect. Because he was strong, and because he was hers, and a little because she was his, too. They belonged to each other, and she would share in all that she owned.
"Tell me about your family," she said suddenly, interest piqued by the mention of Ksenia - Doe hadn't known he had siblings other than Skellige and Leokadia, and was interested to know what other family she would be taking on if she and Szymon were granted permission to make their Vows to each other.
August 24, 2016, 12:31 AM
A low, pleased chuckle spilled from Szymon’s jaws as Doe covered his face in kisses; the warm, bubbling feeling within his breast was still so new — and yet there was a comforting familiarity in it, as though this strange wolf, affectionate and eloquent, tender and doting, was who he was meant to be. He was reassured by the knowledge that the wolves of Donnelaith had not been cruel to his Chosen One, and the steel of his spine relaxed once more as he bent his head to her and allowed her to groom his tattered ears. “Yes,” he affirmed in a guttural, proud growl. He and Skellige would protect her — and the emphasis that he, more than the other warhounds and perhaps more than Skellige himself, was foremost in her mind soothed his restless, wanting soul. “Always, my Doe,” he mumbled, perhaps a little delirious with the riptide of joy and protectiveness he felt.
“Tell me about your family,” she said, and he probably should have expected it, but he hesitated all the same. There was so much to tell, and he did not want her to pity him. In his first fledgling attempts at fulfilling her request, he gave the bare bones facts: he was the youngest and smallest of his eight siblings. He offered names and physical descriptions. Then, hesitantly, he told her of their roles within the family, and he talked of Ksenia — the pale bitch who had stolen Skellige’s chance at the throne and surely would again, in these wilds, if she could. Toward the end of his telling, past those facts he found important and midway between an anecdote about Skellige, he looked down to see that his Chosen One’s eyes had closed. Her head, still pillowed in his lap, was canted inward toward his breast — and he felt a great tenderness overwhelm him with a shuddering sigh. Arranging his foreleg to pillow her head in a manner that would not give her a terrible cricked neck when she awoke, he watched her sleep until she shifted her position naturally and he could curl his body around her with a contented rumble of pleasure.
“Tell me about your family,” she said, and he probably should have expected it, but he hesitated all the same. There was so much to tell, and he did not want her to pity him. In his first fledgling attempts at fulfilling her request, he gave the bare bones facts: he was the youngest and smallest of his eight siblings. He offered names and physical descriptions. Then, hesitantly, he told her of their roles within the family, and he talked of Ksenia — the pale bitch who had stolen Skellige’s chance at the throne and surely would again, in these wilds, if she could. Toward the end of his telling, past those facts he found important and midway between an anecdote about Skellige, he looked down to see that his Chosen One’s eyes had closed. Her head, still pillowed in his lap, was canted inward toward his breast — and he felt a great tenderness overwhelm him with a shuddering sigh. Arranging his foreleg to pillow her head in a manner that would not give her a terrible cricked neck when she awoke, he watched her sleep until she shifted her position naturally and he could curl his body around her with a contented rumble of pleasure.
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