King Elk Forest time and he are inseparable

@Mato <3

tindómë is real now. and delight thinks the energy of the forest has changed - there's been a thrumming under his paws for days, the air sharper, and the eclipse and all its tidings brought it all to the surface. even the elk-king knows it. 

so it's time to get serious, the androgyne thinks. he's not seen mato - well, momentary meetings aside- since his fumbled joining of their ranks. he needs to speak to his pri-- his alpha, and make his ambitions known - or else he'll better see himself out. delight gathers his nervous energy and calls out for the silver prince.

♥

Mato is tending to a food cache when Delight’s call rises in the air for him. He eyes it for a moment, taking stock before deducing that the cache is full enough and they should really eat up some of the meat stored in the back before it went bad. Satisfied with the current state of the caches — though the pack is yet in it’s infancy and everything is a novelty even stocking, rearranging and pruning the food caches — he covers it back up and trots off to find the Núro. It does not take the starlit druid long to find him and umbra ears cupped forth as he approaches, slowing his pace to a stop a few feet away. “Delight,” The Morwinyon greets his subordinate with a regal tip of his crown. “What can I do for you?” For he had summoned him, after all and that typically meant there was something very serious to talk about, in Mato’s experience.

for some reason the androgyne had not quite anticipated the silvery prince to actually arrive, and he blushes before he can help himself. he's used to many feelings - namely unresolved angst and sullen woe, but shyness is somewhat novel. it must be because of - how official it is now. mato's just not his will-be leader, he's truly his morwinyon now. 

delight takes a moment to recover, a little visibly flustered, then dips his head. right, he did call the prince for a reason. "i wanted to tell you i've - chosen my trade," he says, tripping over the sentence just a little in an attempt to sound more formal than usual. "i would - like to become our chronicler. if that pleases you," he adds, then makes a face at himself and corrects: "i mean, i figure it makes sense anyway and i talked to seabreeze and trajan about it and they agreed, so," and now the núro is rambling, and he comes to an abrupt stop with a big gulp of air, eyes watching his leader's face for a sign of reaction nervously.

Mato’s brows lift as Delight informs him that he’s decided upon a trade — good news though he has yet to put pressure on anyone to decide ( though for the most part mostly everyone has an idea of what trades they hope to pursue ). Chronicler. The druid gives a mute nod of approval. Yes, a chronicler sounds wonderful, he thinks, and what better a time to become one than at the very beginning? Especially when Delight was here to witness it himself and thus could retell it as a memory as opposed to just a story he’d been told. “It does please me,” — though Mato would never tell what his wolves to pursue. That choice was theirs and he wanted them to be happy in their trades; plus their climb in the hierarchy depended upon their trades and how far they were willing to go. “you have an advantage over any chroniclers that join us in the future: you were here since the very beginning and will speak of Tindómë’s rise because you witnessed it, played a crucial role in it.”

Mato gives a pause here, salmon pink tongue drawing across his jowls as he shifts his weight. “Is there any way I can assist you in earning it?” The empyrean inquires with a soft cant of his head. Tindómë remains in it’s infancy and thus their founding is the only thing of note …besides perhaps the King Elk but so little is known about him aside from the fact that he is known as “the wolf killer”.

relief and something akin to thrill flood him at the starlit morwinyon's approval. mato repeats what he's been thinking, and what seabreeze and trajan have echoed as well, and the núro dips his head, pleased and not quite able to hide his grin. "that's what i was thinking too," he agrees.

mato offers to help - delight has been planning on speaking to him, anyway, and so he looks back up and nods slowly. "i thought it would be good to - to collect the founding members stories. um, how they came together, that sort of thing. and you, obviously, since you started everything, you're the center of it. seabreeze too," he adds, thinking of their first meeting. though he isn't actually sure when seabreeze joined with mato, the androgyne is holding onto his theories about the nature of their relationship. delight pauses. "and - well, so, i wanted to ask how you decided to make tindómë, where you came from, that sort of thing, and also - about.. about the king elk," and here his voice drops low, hushed excitement crossing his features, "is he why you wanted to pick this forest? i've met him," the wisp finally bursts out, remembering the fading eclipse - met is perhaps generous but delight saw him and spoke to him and he looked at the boy and that meant something. nevermind he wasn't alone (because uka hardly counted), it was still - it meant something.

giant monologue incoming. did mato even pause to breathe? idk. lmao.

Mate is not surprised when Delight delves into the questions: where he comes from, how he decided Tindómë would take form and about the King Elk. As Mato knows very little about the imperial Elk that has graciously shared his territory with the pack he decides to answer that first. A soft shiver of a chill slithers down the druid’s spine as Delight exclaimed that he’s met the King Elk. “I have yet to lay eyes upon him but I have heard him,” The eerie, high pitched and low gravelly roar that he gives off is the same but more ethereal than any he’d heard in Broken Antler Fen. “I knew of him but only because he is called the wolf killer.” Mato wonders if this knowledge will be enough to scare some of his subordinates off but he is quick to offer his explanation, “but elk are not inherent killers. They are not unlike us: they kill when they need to. To protect themselves, their mates, their offspring. I am not saying that he has not killed but I believe it was only for righteous reasons. He has been generous enough to allow us to claim this land, to co-exist with him as risky as it is. So he is under our protect. Him, any mate he takes and any children he may sire within this territory.” The empyrean still has yet to decide whether King Elk is a god in mortal flesh though he is not sure he believes in such things. He believes in the energy, in the “magic” of the earth and the sky because he can see it, feel it; and at the end of the day the King Elk is guardian of the Earth just as he is.

“As for me,” With not much life beneath his belt Mato’s story will be small. “I was born in a pack called Broken Antler Fen alongside my three siblings. I lived a good, happy childhood. Nothing dramatic had ever really happened until I met a boy one day in a neighboring territory named Cypress. I had joined with the band of kids that would later form Northstar Vale. I believe I’ve always held onto the beliefs that make up Tindómë’s core but it wass then, I think, when it occurred to me that Tindómë could become more than a wishful dream. If Rannoch, whom was likely no older than I am now at the time, could gather wolves to follow him then so could I.” The druid gives a pause before continuing with, “I was raised in a traditional pack and Northstar Vale, too, was traditional. There is nothing necessarily wrong with traditional but I found that it was never diverse enough in trades. Traditional was not for me. I seek that diversity, I want trades to matter. And I abhor the idea that someone bigger and rougher can come into a pack and claw their way to the top of the hierarchy with nothing to show for it aside from arrogance and bullying, or on the opposite of the coin someone is promoted out of favoritism. Rank and leadership, respect and the right to be dominant in a pack should be earned. I had no idea if anyone would share my idea, or would even be interested to break out of tradition.”

“I spent a month, perhaps two, in the Vale planning Tindómë out, losing myself in the stars as I thought. At times I forgot I was still corporeal until hunger would turn my stomach,” and then… “and then Aerlinn came,” He realized he used her nickname instead of the name she was known by and offered Delight a sheepish smile. “Seabreeze. I thought nothing of her continued presence before we left the Vale, blind to the fact that she had tethered me back to the earth, reminded me that I am not stardust and that my ideas can be real if I was only brave enough to try. So she joined me on the journey that could have easily failed, believing in me and as we searched for a place to call home we recruited.” The empyrean draws in a deep breath, his monologue over.

“From there, you know the rest of the story.” Or rather, Mato thinks, what has already happened. Tindómë’s history was still in the making; and it was a wonderful thing to know.

this got longer than i intended, oops!

the androgyne hangs onto every word that falls from his prince's lips like precious silk, expression aglow. lacking the archival tools of a conventional historian delight will have to rely on his memory for his self-given task and he intends to do exactly that. he will imprint the shape of mato's words into the fabric of his being, that he may carry them with him for the totality of his existence.

he bows his head slightly with the morwinyon's words, recalling the visage of the god-creature as it has judged him. it does give him a chill of a sort, having met a god named the wolf-killer and survived (and the elk had plenty of chances to attack at that venture, when both he and uka were reduced to trembling submissives in the face of greatness!) but he lifts his nose and tentatively adds, "i think..i believe that, um, the king elk has accepted us." his own survival adds credence to that particular theory and he says accepts as if he means chosen. mato probably already knows this, though, and he can't help but feel a small flare of embarrassment at his own childish wonder. something about being around the silvery prince makes him want to be - more. 

there is little time to dwell on this though as mato continues into his own story and delight listens intently, committing every word to his memory. it is a flawed logic on his part but of all the stories he feels that mato's must be the most important, not simply because mato is their leader but because mato is the flicker of spirit that drew them together, that took delight in on the heels of tragedy and let him reshape himself into something that can be good, and if his own feelings are in the way of a historian's objectivity he is young and has time to learn better.

 the details are easy to grasp and he has never worried about the shape of such things - broken antler fen, the vale, these will become key elements to the tale that weaves to their founding. there is a part of his natural curiousity that latches onto this new figure, rannoch, thinking of - interviewing him too, but he feels sheepish at that and thinks its best to stick with his own pack's members to start. he does not comment on any part of mato's story, aside from a quirk of the eyebrow at his nickname for seabreeze (and the subsequent roll of his stomach which he staunchly chooses to ignore). he does not revise his earlier thought but makes a mental note - seabreeze is a good friend and he is pleased his vague assumptions on her role in tindómë's founding had been fairly on track, and so she will become a second priority. 

"thank you," the androgyne says after a few moments of silence spent gathering his own thoughts. "that's - good. important." truthfully mato has given him so much information that he is a little caught up on trying to sort through it. he feels a little big for his skin right now. "andum, i think it's brilliant. breaking out of tradition like this," he adds unnecessarily and has to duck to hide the blush that comes immediately on its heels. delight wants to flee a little bit. "...that's a good start, i think," he says instead, unable to come up with any proper follow up questions until he's spoken to his pack-mates (a silly part of him wants to ask about mato's childhood, but that definitely veers out of the professionalism of the trade and into delight's own burgeoning interests and he has embarrassed himself quite enough for one day).

omfg. i think delight's baby crush on mato is so adorable! *squishes delight* ♥

Mato appreciates that Delight is attentive and listens through it all even as Mato dumps a massive monologue upon him — probably the most Mato has spoken in his entire life. The starlit king doesn’t, necessarily, like talking about himself because it makes him feel pompous — and truth be told he’d much rather hear of someone else’s life than repeat his own — but he knows it is necessary for Delight’s trade and he is happy to oblige. “Yes,” Mato concurs as Delight shares his thoughts upon the King Elk. “I do believe he has accepted us as well. An honor, truly.” Because both parties are infamous for killing the other ( and in the case of the wolves feasting upon elk ). To be accepted by such a magnificent, ethereal beast was …beyond words that Mato knew. “Ainima.” The empyrean breathes in the tongue of the druids. Blessed. Holy. To be accepted by the holy beast is a blessing. It is the best word he can think to describe it. Ainima.

“I am glad you think so.” Mato responds, humbled with a dip of his head as Delight compliments Mato’s idea of breaking out of tradition. He’d no idea if it could even work as it reshapes everything he has ever known about wolf packs but there was nothing to be gained by fearing failure; and though there is always that chance ( in everything, even in traditional packs ) he is more hopeful that the idea might take off. For surely he is not the only one to have considered the idea. “Do you have enough information to start with?” Mato inquires, for it is true he has skimped quite a bit on history that he believes is unattached to Tindómë. The Morwinyon does wish to assist his packmates in any way he can when it comes to earning their trades and he intends to follow through with it.

"ainima?" he repeats, tasting the foreign word for himself. he knows - there is a language, at the least, but he has not learned of it yet. (still so hearing it from the morwinyon's lips is a blessing and delight vows to become a touch more studious at the least).

mato's acceptance of his compliment embarrasses the androgyne yet again, though the prince has seemingly not noticed any discomfort on his part, thank the god-creature himself that he might be able to live out his affections quietly and in peace. "i think so," delight says to answer mato's query. he pauses and then adds, "uh, who do you think would be good to talk to? i mean i'll talk to everyone eventually, but i'd like.. to know your opinion." there are, after all, those he does not know, and the morwinyon knows them all.

Delight repeats the word and Mato is thoughtful for a moment as he tries to think on how to translate it correctly for it is not a word that has a cut and dry common tongue counterpart because he finds the King Elk holy but not in the same way the word means in common tongue. He has no interest in worshipping it ( respecting it, yes) for though it is otherworldly Mato does not believe in Gods or anything of the sort. “It’s translation isn’t perfect. It means blessed, holy but not in a way that would render the King Elk a god. I do not believe in such things.” The druid attempts to explain and ends up offering Delight a sheepish grin thinking that he’s doing a terrible job of trying to translate the druid speech. Most words are fairly straight forward but there are always those words — on both sides! — that stubbornly refuse to translate.

“Brienne was with me at the start so she might, perhaps, be a good one to go to next,” Mato thinks aloud, attempting to give Delight some direction of who to go next. “My sister Nova, my grandfather Burke and his mate Malice all have their own stories to tell though the latter two might overlap.” Mato could never quite grasp the idea of calling Malice ‘grandmother’. She is, but she isn’t and he’s never known where to categorize her in relation to him aside from “Burke’s mate”. In truth, he believes that each and every one of them has a compelling story to tell, about the choices that led up to Tindómë or further, perhaps if they feel like delving that far. “Trajan withholds a compelling story, I believe, from what vagueness he eluded to it when we first spoke.” But as per the empyrean, he didn’t pry.

he listens to mato's explanation intently, curiously. it is a subtle but important distinction - funny, because he's been secretly calling the king elk a god-creature for want of a better word, though delight doesn't know if he believes in gods or not. he does not quite catch mato's sheepish grin, thinking what a beautiful word, then, though his gaze does snap up as mato elaborates on the potential stories within their packmates. he collects the names, mouthing brienne? before making the connection to seabreeze - how many names did this woman carry with herself, delight wondered? 

nova, burke, malice: he commits them to memory, of course eager to speak with the morwinyon's own family. mato comments on trajan as well and the singing-sunlight recalls their first conversation: 'i'm always prepared for the worst', the solider had told him. trajan, at least, is easy enough to find (though he will have strong words for his choice in companionship, should the yearling catch wind of it). the simplest solution is to start with brienne and work his way through their number - of course this is not how things will exactly work out but delight is not to know, yet.

he hums. "thank you," he says seriously, then lifts his head slightly. "oh - also - that language, uh, your language, i mean. what is it called?" it only follows that if tindómë has a language the chronicler must know it intimately (and yes, perhaps it gives him some small excuse to stay in mato's company a moment longer, who can say for sure). 

Mato thinks this is possibly the most he’s ever spoken in his life, but it is necessary to help Delight and the empyrean is glad that he can assist him in earning his trade. The druid shifts his weight and regards Delight with contemplation as the other male inquires as to the name of the tongue he speaks. There has never been a name for it, in truth. Mato has always, simply, called it tongue of the druid’s. It is simple and it has always worked well on the rare instances he is inquired as to it’s name. He supposes he can give it a name but that feels a tad …arrogant. To assume he has the power to name a language. A language that he is not even sure is his — though to be fair he’s not even sure where he picked it up at. “I’m not sure it has a name and if it does I do not know it,” Mato admits, sheepishly. “I simply call it Tongue of the Druids.” He admits with a smile tugging at his lips and a soft laugh escaping his muzzle. The “name” he bestows upon it clears him from direct ownership of it while conveying that he’s not sure where it originates from but uses simply to have something to call it.

tryina wrap some of these dang trade threads up, ty for the thread <33

mato's admittal endears him to delight more - the silvery prince speaks a nameless tongue? he is intrigued further, but their conversation has run long and each passing moment increases the risk that he will make a fool of himself, and so he sweeps his head low in gratitutide instead of further questioning him. "that's - i like that. it makes a good story," the chronicler tells him, fighting the soft smile that's trying to make it's way onto his face. "sometime you should tell me where it comes from, but i think that's enough for now, yeah?" he feels a little guilty for monopolizing the morwinyon's time - even if it is for the good of the pack as a whole as far as he's concerned - and so he'll let it rest here for now, offering a simple farewell and a wag of his tail before skulking off to write the story in his head.