Alpine Lake the stars shine for you, only you

@Mato

It was late and she needed her sleep so she could make it back to the Vale, yet somehow the wraith had been wracked; deep and tumultous ocean of thought crashing upon rocky shores of her mind.  They had decided to bed down near Alpine Lake and the call of the water was strong inside her now but she whittled it down, down, down, buried in her deepest recesses because if she were to follow Mato and build Tindómë with him it would have to be.

The yearling had slept fitfully for a few hours before she stirred and stepped outside of their hideaway to rest her gaze upon the water.  It was there that she saw their mistresses, the sea and the stars, dancing together before her.

" Strange how I falter 
to find I'm standing in deep water;
strange how my heart beats 
to find I'm standing on your shore... "

It was the only tune that would come to mind and she sang it quietly as to not disturb her compatriot, but in the same breath she turned around and cantered back to him, gesturing playfully at his tired, resting body.

Her nose found its way to him and she nudged him gingerly, leaning in close and whispering. Come, come.  I wish to show you something!  Maybe sharing this with him would make her feel less lonely, make her be able to see the sea in the sky, make these feelings of loneliness abate.

Their journey back to the Vale is almost complete though their stay will not — cannot be long. Mato only hopes that their parting can be amicable for he would hate to part from Rannoch on ill terms. He tries not to dwell upon that conversation though it looms ever closer upon the horizon. It will come and they will face it. Together. Such a strange thing! To think of Aerlinn and him as a single unit. A collective as opposed to the individuals that Mato knows they are; it is strange in the most wonderful of ways and Mato very much enjoys the companionship even if the details of it remain a bit foggy to the young man who remains naïve to such things yet. The empyrean is half asleep when she nudges him, her touch ginger but electric when pressed to his flesh. He regards her with groggy eyes, squinting and trying to make sense as he traverses the world of the sleeping and the world of the awake as his body slowly comes to grips with the fact that he is, indeed awake as she urges him to follow her, that there is something she wishes to show him.

Mato rises, and stretches in the hopes that increasing oxygen and blood flow to his muscles might aid in the process of waking up from his cat nap. “What is it, Aerlinn?” He inquires, voice still raspy with the last vestiges of slumber that cling stubbornly to his vocal chords, yet dutifully the druid follows her.

She does not give him the satisfaction of knowing before he can see the beauty that has been placed before them.  She leads the way, trotting along quickly as she continues quietly with song —

" Strange how my heart beats 
To find myself upon your shore. 
Strange how I still feel 
My loss of comfort gone before. 
Cool waves wash over 
And drift away with dreams of youth 
So this is where I should be now! "

— and then it is there in front of them. The expanse of the sky blends seamlessly with that of the water: stars in the air and on the ground.  The yearling treads softly now, just her paws drenched in water as she turns around to face her companion.

This.  Her voice is breathy but a smile dances there and she hopes that he finds the view as enamoring as she.

She does not respond to his question, leading him away from their shelter for night, instead offering a second verse to her song creating an enigmatic feel to the atmosphere around them as he is left in the proverbial dark on what it is she wishes to show him. Mate assumes, freely though, that as there is no panic and further no sense of real urgency that it is not anything “serious”; as in lives depended upon that she rouse him from half slumber. The trees give way to a vast lake and she offers the view before him in a grandeur gesture on a voice softened to breathy wisp. Bright, apple green gaze takes in the vast stretch of lake before the pair and subconsciously he steps forth as it mirrors the night sky, melding as if it is one as opposed two very distinct entities. “I feel as if I could touch the heavens,” So perfectly crafted was the water mirror that when he steps forth and dips his toes in the water sending small ripples across it’s reflective surface the stars blur and shudder from the motion but the image does not lose it’s magic. Of course he knows he cannot touch the stars but this is close and his imagination is still strong enough to appreciate it.

“Thank you for showing this to me.” Mato turns his gaze to her, then, offering her a tug of his lips into a warm smile. “It is beautiful.” The druid speaks it out loud though he distinctly feels that he does not need to.

As the young Morwinyon gazes at the beautiful sights above, she fixes her eyes instead on the one in front of her, capable of staring unabashedly and without being caught.  The starlight bent down to kiss the druid's fur and if there were any time to feel whole and swallowed by the gods it would be now. And that she did — with the wind ruffling her coat and at her paws how the sea came up and blanketed her paws to fall back away, over and over. You are welcome.  I felt as if you would not want to miss it.

These feelings stirring inside of her — both the longing for the sea and the sudden fixation of her friend — would have to be locked away by day but here caressed by darkness and salt and sand she felt safe and it was this that she had hoped for.  If she could not sleep peacefully she would remain awake at peace, thoughts and dreams be damned!

And it is here that she begins to shift into her womanhood, her potential (although it will — it must be tucked back down again) and it is visible because although this maturation might've happened once before she does not recall its feelings or its details.  The amnesia — knowing that she too could have a family, a pack out there that she had once called home! What habits and traits had manifested itself in this wretched body before? These thoughts had all but consumed the woman, even for the majority of their journey she had been quiet and contemplative.  What a terrible traveling partner she must've been!

But these thoughts could not overtake her — not here, not now, being graced by the heavens both above and below.  She danced playfully, darting in and out of the water and nipping at her friend's heels even though he was perhaps too imperial in nature to join her.  It was here she could be unbridled, not under the scrutinizing (albeit graceful) eye of the Vale and perhaps for a while not even in Tindómë.  She was still learning how to be a pack wolf, how to care for herself as much as she did others because she was still in the process of finding her own, a sense of self.

Once she tired from playing she collapsed in the sand, panting heavily but happily.  She afforded her companion a glance, and there it happened — the aforementioned hiding of this girl that had reared her wild head out of her most deep, hidden recesses.  Seabreeze felt a warmth seep into her gut, her cheeks, the marrow of her bones; embarrassed that she could let herself unravel in front of her future leader.

I — her voice caught in her throat and for a moment she felt like suffocating... like drowning, all over again but it was in her mind and not her body. No more words seemed to come to her and she could only stare with her mouth gaping slightly.

It is freeing here without the confines and duties of a pack.  I'm sorry.  She felt compelled to apologize for this childish behaviour although she knew adults played together as well — recessed feelings pooled back up to the surface of her mind because she somehow felt that adventure and play had been punished wherever she came from.  

“You felt right,” The empyrean murmurs with unbridled affection at her statement. He might have been a bit disoriented, a bit groggy when he first awoke but this is worth it. And then Aerlinn dances, sending ripples through the starry reflection upon the lake’s surface as she moved in and out of the celestial body of water to nip at his heels. He does not join her but he does not call for a cease either. He would sooner watch her enjoy herself, and her playing brings forth a fond chuckle that rumbles in his throat, pressing past his lips. Mato watches with a bright gaze as Seabreeze exhausts herself out and flops to the sand and in the time it takes for him to blink her buoyancy is gone. “I think no less of you, if that is what you fear,” He means to assure her as he stretches out upon the cool sands, so that he lays by her side in a sphinx like position, his gaze focuses back upon her when he is comfortable. “You have the right to be whom ever you want to be. If you want to play, then play. Tindómë will not be a prison.” Everyone is different and that is what makes them so unique; it is what makes the new souls he meet so fascinating!

Her tail wags gently, brushing against the cool sands.  The girl's attitude returned and she chuckled silently through her nose. I worry, sometimes.

"Sometimes."  The truth was worry haunted her most of the time, and not just with Mato; everyone in the vale caused these feelings!  Certain appearances had to be kept and as she moved up the ranks she only felt more pressured to keep at it.

It might still take a while for me to be comfortable.  She had to figure herself out, and then forget pretty much everything she had just learned about pack life to focus on the ins and outs of Tindómë.  It was a lot for the yearling to take in, but she knew she was prepared to do it.

"..whom ever you want to be."  What a revolutionary idea, isn't it?  That one does not have to force herself into a niche, but can craft herself how she wants to be?

It hit her then, soothing her identity crisis a bit — there was no rush to form a person or reclaim who she might have been; she simply was who she was.

Thank you, Mato.

“You need not worry. Tindómë is a fresh start and you are apart of it’s creation, just as much as I.” It is hers just as much as it is his. It is theirs. Her decision to join him on this journey — reckless as it perhaps is (perhaps the most reckless thing Mato has done in his life!) — was significant. He did not, perhaps, expect much of anything when he first met her upon the borders, so far from the sea that had spit her up as if she was borne of sea foam as the goddess Aphrodite and yet …yet Seabreeze had come to mean a great deal to him in such a short period of time. The empyrean does not understand all of it, has yet to explore just how deep they go but there is plenty of time for that, he thinks. He does not speak as she thanks him, unsure if he deserves to accept her gratitude but instead seeks to press his muzzle against her cheek. A soft, brief, albeit affectionate gesture. He is not sure what has encouraged him to be so bold and if she allows his touch he ensures it does not linger for the consideration of what Mato thinks is politeness, trying to process the burn of heat beneath his fur and the slight hitch of breath in his throat.

He assured her she did not need to worry and wondered if she ever could not be worrying.  But he tells her that Tindómë is theirs, once again, and she is sure that their discussion in the woods was not just a slip of words.  He meant it, that this was their fresh start together.

She wondered how he had so quickly come to think of her as highly as she did because she did not deserve it.  She had done nothing worthy of his recognition other than follow him — and just as she thinks this her peripherals catch him moving towards her so gently, and the girl leans deeply against him the brief second that he is there.

Even after he pulls away from her she can feel him; every fiber of her being that he touched is electric!  Her throat catches and it takes a moment for her mind to clear, for her to be coherent.

You tame me, she begins, unsure of where she intends to go with this speech but letting it come naturally. Every time I feel that I am unworthy, you are there to tether me.  When I am lonely, you offer me your presence.  When I felt lost, you set out on this journey and allowed me to follow you.

She raises her head to look up at the heavens. If you truly say that Tindómë is ours, then I will protect your creation.  I will follow you anywhere.  Because he had given this lost girl a home, he had at least partially freed her from worthy and bound her to the Earth, to where she was, his words comforting and nourishing her.

You are a fine young man.  I see it in you, the ability to lead.  We are green, Mato, and you must understand that we will be looked over.  But I think.. you can win others over.  I think the idea you have going is a good one.  It is worthy.  You are worthy.

She leaned over and returned his gesture, gently touching his cheek with her muzzle.  Tindómë would thrive or fail, but this, her loyalty was lifelong.

wrap this up soon? (and have another one of course!)

Aerlinn’s speech is lovely and it causes a rise of heat in his cheeks, the soft flutter of his umbra dipped ears against his skull because it revolves around him. Mato is not arrogant in all matters, and the druid’s whiskers tremble in …not necessarily embarrassment for he is not embarrassed that he has become so much to her: her tether, her comforting presence, her polaris that keeps her from getting lost. It is flattery, he realizes. He is flattered and he is touched by her words because he hears the raw sincerity within her tone and it warms his heart. Her words cause his breath to catch in his throat and his bright, apple green gaze to soften as it touches upon her even as she looks away from him, to the heavens that stretch like a velveteen canvas above them waiting to be painted with the constellations and stories they tell. She has faith in him, unyielding faith, assures him that she sees the ability to lead within him. He can only hope that she is right, that he does Tindómë and it’s pledglings right and is a good, fair but just leader. It is a concern he harbors, of course, for he’s never led anything in his life, as she points out he is green. He is young. He is yet untested and he is as much a gamble as his pack concept but there were wolves that shared in that faith. He does not speak though he is indefinitely grateful to her and her undying support of him though the empyrean thinks it must take a whole lot of faith. She touches her muzzle to his cheek, her black leathery nose pressing against the fine fur of his cheek. The moonbeam kissed druid lets out a soft noise of contentment, something akin to a feline’s purr. Subtle, but not unhidden. Subtly, he shifts so he is closer to her: so that their shoulders touch lightly as his gaze settles back to the mirrored sky upon the lake’s surface, his mind buzzing and his heart warming towards Seabreeze in ways he does not yet fully understand; but acknowledges nonetheless.

The sea-soaked yearling's gaze lands on him again as he dances in and out of her peripherals — a flickered whisker, a fluttering ear.  She absorbs his silence comfortably, without a need to fill it, tending to her cracked paws.  Soon their travels would be over and they would be back to the Vale and although she worried about telling Rannoch that they were leaving together — a unit — it did not come to the forefront of her mind.

Nothing stood to concern her. 
Their time was soon, their time was now.  The druid brushed against her almost undetectably and she lets out a deep sigh, once again turning her attention towards the beauty in front of them.

Soon enough they would come back this way and begin Tindómë, but until then she'd hold onto this moment as far as she could take it, coming back to it in the uncertainties their near future would bring.