Sleepy Fox Hollow the wonder that keeps the stars apart
All Welcome  November 30, 2017, 02:19 PM
Sif
Lone Wolves

@Wardruna <3 beginning just outside the territory
"... name of Snowe. Dark, bad scars. But nice!" Sif chattered. She'd been catching Wardruna up on her activities since their last meeting, telling him about the wolves she'd met and the conversations she'd had in broken northern tongue, substituting words in common tongue when she could not find quite the right one.

She was about to go on and mention Rheia, but they were almost there, and Sif released a happy whine instead.

"I hope... you like," she said shyly, leading the way to the ledge that best looked over the hollow down below.

Icelandic/Northern || Common || Norwegian/Fen's Tongue
November 30, 2017, 06:58 PM
Wardruna
Easthollow
Delta
because i am lazy and don't feel like google translating: all bolded speech in italics is "northern", lol.

         Wardruna keeps pace with Sif, though he slows his own gait just enough to give her a bit of a lead as she takes him to the place she has discovered. As they leave behind Easthollow and venture into the Wilds she chatters at him, mostly in their shared tongue but occasionally she slips in and out of common tongue and he cannot hide the smiles that twitch and tease at the corners of his lips. Sif’s been busy, she scouted out a potential place for them and managed to recruit along the way. Wardruna is a bit surprised by the initiative that Sif has taken with this but nevertheless impressed. Scars are proof that we survive. The northerner remarks, picking that out of the bits and pieces that Sif offers him. He, too, has scars. The marred flesh around his eye, the hyphema, any many hidden by his thick pelage. She lets out a happy whine suddenly and his steps slow as she leads him to an outcropping that looks over the Hollow below, shyly adding that she hopes he likes it.

        Wardruna’s ears swivel atop his skull as he peers at it with his functioning eye, taking in the sight that yawns out before him. He makes to brush his muzzle against her shoulder before he gives her a gentle, encouraging nudge and a rogue’s smile. Show me around? As per his means of presentation the words spill from betwixt his lips as a question but underneath it lay a challenge: show me why it is a good place for us. Wardruna’s never been particularly attached to any territory before, admittedly, and truly any territory will suffice so long as it offers them plenty of prey and fresh water sources but she obviously seeks his approval. He suppose he doesn’t actually need a tour; it appears from aerial view that it has everything he seeks but he’s in a playfully mischievous mood and he wants to make her work for it ( his approval, that is ) — just a little.
November 30, 2017, 10:28 PM
Sif
Lone Wolves

Sif gave a shiver of delight, sensing that Wardruna was pleased with her even if he didn't say anything just yet about the place she'd found. They had a good view from the top - it was a small but sweeping valley, covered in deciduous forest and spattered sparcely with whitebark pines. There was a golden ribbon cutting through one corner, visible only intermittently through the trees - Sif was pretty sure that was the creek she'd seen on her last visit.

With a cheerful bob of her head, the dark girl led the way down the valley, making sure she was in Wardruna's line of sight on the way down. It was a narrow pass that led to the valley, and the path was mostly sand and loose rock. If they were going to be coming and going a lot, Sif might start to think about finding a better way to the bottom. But her plans, thus far, involved getting everyone to the hollow before winter and keeping them there.

"What first?" she chirped as they reached the valley floor. The walls of the hollow arched up behind them, like the loving arms of a father-figure, or the broad chest of a sentinel. Sif tore her eyes away from it to gaze bashfully at Wardruna, who - like the walls - gave Sif a sense of comfort and safety. (It was natural for her to venerate Wardruna, as it is natural for all women to venerate great men; the uterus makes a natural storage space for admiration.) "Grátandi RokkSjenert Hund Creek, or Refurhol?"

Icelandic/Northern || Common || Norwegian/Fen's Tongue
December 01, 2017, 05:16 AM
Wardruna
Easthollow
Delta
that link though, lmao. it took me a hot minute to realize it was there. xD

        Sif does not appear to be discouraged by his lack of immediate praise on the territory she has found for them, the amassing kvennabúr that he does not mean to be a collection of women but is simply how things have progressed to be. It is only natural that the further along this thing goes the more that Wardruna begins to think of and refer to them as his women. That had been his intent, after all, to collect thralls to show his dominance but thralls are not so welcome here and each woman is so very different that he does not think it is fair to categorize all of them into thrall. Wardruna is learning that things are smoother and work a lot more efficiently if they join of their own free will. Sif, for instance, has become something of Wardruna’s personal ray of sunshine and without intent he finds himself growing particularly close to her. She leads him into the territory with a cheerful bob of her head as Wardruna gives a soft, light-hearted shake of his own.

        Once they have descended to flat earth once more she chirps, naming off what he presumes to be internal territories and he thinks, once more, that Sif has indeed been busy while he’s been tending to things in Easthollow. Keeping up appearances under hawk-eyes that only irritate him more and more as the days grind on is becoming exhaustive and he wants to be free of them and their scrutinizing eye. As quickly as he can be. “Hmm,” He draws with a curl of his lips and a heavy lidded look as she looks to him in a way that he thinks is bashful. “Show me your favorite place.” He suggests in a low purl, figuring that inviting her to show him her favorite internal territory she’s discovered so far might be a good place to start.
December 01, 2017, 10:15 PM
Sif
Lone Wolves

Sif looked away, not quite sure what else to do with her eyes. It was strange to spend time around wolves that weren't Fen, and it was strangest that one of them was a male that made her belly flip in strange and exciting ways. Part of her had thought Wardruna might take over for Fen and pick up where the aged male had left off, but this had not been the case. Even with as much freedom as Fen had allowed her, Sif found that she had far more agency under Wardruna's... control? Guidance? Ownership?

She'd figure it out later. For the moment, she had far more pressing concerns.

It'd started to snow. Sif knew that it would be better to tour the territory before it started to storm, and then they'd end the tour with her favorite place - Wardruna would be none the wiser.

"This way," she said, sliding along his blind side so that their fur mingled - shale against mud. Then the girl began to pick her way toward the creek, moving much more slowly now than the hasty pace she'd set on the way to the hollow. There was no reason to rush through the visit, and besides, this was how she'd first experienced and grown to love the hollow - slowly, reverently, and with a light snow swirling in the breeze. As they drew alongside the creek, a pearly flake landed on Wardruna's muzzle - Sif licked it away before it had time to melt. "Hvernig er Noma?" she asked, still not quite sure what to think of Wardruna's gruff, skinny friend. Generally, she endeavored not to.

Icelandic/Northern || Common || Norwegian/Fen's Tongue
December 02, 2017, 04:56 AM
Wardruna
Easthollow
Delta
i edited out a good chunk of what i'd originally written in this post because his thread with noma is on-going and i don't wish to assume anything as this takes place after that thread. :-)

        Sif implores him to follow and Wardruna does, their progression slow. Wardruna does not mind. He’s in no hurry and it gives him time to mentally map out the territory that Sif has scoped out for them. Even if they do not officially become a pack Wardruna thinks there is enough of them that they can support one another through the winter as an unofficial group nevertheless. He’s climbed the ranks of Easthollow rather fast, which is surprising to the male that sits in their hierarchy as Delta, especially given what he suspects is their suspicions. He no longer harbors weariness of being caught — and anyway in his mind and in his culture there is nothing to be caught at he’s not done anything wrong — there is a rough contingency plan in place and he knows regardless what happens he and his women will survive the winter.

        Sif moves at his blindside and though this instinctively makes him want to bristle he allows it, showering her with trust that he does not often show. In fact, he thinks the only other he lets on his blindside is Noma and wonders what that means. Sif slides alongside him, the press of her supple curves against him causes a low sound of contentment to rumble in his chest. The rapid swell of affection for Sif is surprising to the northerner but not unpleasant. She is pretty, yes, but Wardruna takes the work she’s put towards this as ambition. He wonders if she is the logical choice for Dama …for Wife. She is probably the youngest but she has discovered this place and she’s aided in …recruitment. She displays signs of leadership to Wardruna and he thinks that the others might very well be willing to look to her as their monarch. The matriarch of the sister wives ( is that what they are? He's not quite sure yet ).

        It begins to snow, the flakes swirling upon the wind that sweeps through the territory as the pair move through it, closing in on a creek. A flake lands upon his muzzle and just as quick Sif is licking it off. Wardruna makes to offer an affectionate nip to her cheek or cusp of her ear: which ever he reaches as she is on his blindside and he’s still trying to learn how to judge those things. It is his biggest vulnerability and he loathes it utterly and completely. He’s getting better: better about not hating it, hating himself. It is evident that the Fate Weavers and Gods have monumental plans for him — having everything stolen from him in one non-fatal blow was merely a foothold. It knocked him down into a deep and dark pit but Wardruna…he is filled with a desire to prove himself, to be the victor; and now he thinks he can see the edge and he’s ready to pull himself out of that pit.

        His ears twitch as Sif brings up Noma and he draws in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Noma is …Noma.” Wardruna offers with a slight shrug of his shoulders. He does not offer her anything more at the moment if only because he ( and hel ) does not wish to assume things.
December 04, 2017, 02:19 PM
Sif
Lone Wolves

A dark, velveteen ear brushed Wardruna's cheek as it fluttered back against an equally dark head. Sif was confused, briefly, by the man's cryptic words, but soon realized that he was simply not sure how to answer the question. She could understand that. And, on the subject of what people were, Sif had a few questions of her own.

They meandered along the creekside as the dark girl gathered her thoughts. They were near enough to the Weeping Rock that Sif felt the need to pause - the majesty of the area would be sure to put a halt to the conversation, and she wanted to get her questions out of the way now, so that they could enjoy the scenery together.

"Rheia - another girl - said that we were sisters. All of us," she said haltingly, picking her way through the words she knew. The more she spoke with Wardruna, the easier it became. "But that a man cannot be a sister. So... what will you be?" A hint of worry showed on her pretty face. What if the question upset him? What if he hadn't thought of that yet? What if he didn't have an answer? Uncertainty plagued the girl, and though she tried to keep it to herself, her anxiety was a writhing, palpable thing.

Icelandic/Northern || Common || Norwegian/Fen's Tongue
December 04, 2017, 05:58 PM
Wardruna
Easthollow
Delta
        Wardruna does not feel uncomfortable with the silence that settles between Sif and him: it does not make him nervous and he feels no need to fill it with idle and meaningless chatter. When the woman at his side halts so, too, does Wardruna: attuned to the slow and eventual cease of her movements felt at the close press of their bodies. She spoke a name that is unfamiliar to Wardruna but he need not draw it to question for Sif offers the missing information quickly enough. Another girl. Yet, this brings it with a new series of questions of Wardruna’s own. Was Rheia one of his by recruitment of Sif? Or just …another girl. A stranger that moves on as quickly as the tide? Wardruna does not ask these those as Sif poses her next question, her anxiety over it notable to even Wardruna. He does not know the source of her anxiety in relation to her inquiry but he moves so he is standing before her, facing her. The haunting jack-o-lantern orange of his functioning eye seeks her burgundy gaze. I am Dróttinn and you, the sisters, you are my sister wives.” That was the idea he’d been hinting at when they’d recruited Poet and it has stuck with him now. It was true that Wardruna never thought much about striking out and claiming leadership and in the very rare times that it was a fleeting consideration in his mind he’d never thought it would shape like this. Yet, he cannot claim he is disappointed. If anything, he’s quite the opposite.
December 04, 2017, 11:03 PM
Sif
Lone Wolves

"Dróttinn," Sif repeated. It was a word she knew rather well. Fen had not claimed the title for himself, but the others - when they'd leered at her, they'd named him her lord. It had been meant mockingly, but Sif had proudly shouldered the knowledge, given in insult or not. Back then, the idea of having a lord to take care of her had meant the world to young Sif. Today, it was the idea of these so-called 'sister-wives' that settled the girl's nerves. Her tail gave a tiny shiver. A lord was a good thing, and so were sisters - "But - hvað er kona?" she asked, not quite sure what to think of that word.

'Wife' had been taught to her, but it had been in conjunction with 'mother' and 'daughter' - and Sif wasn't quite sure what the different between the three might be. Didn't wives have children? Or was that a mother? And other terms were related to these. Brothers, husbands, sons, fathers. Where did those come in to play?

"Kona hafa eiginmann," she recalled. Or was it feður - fathers? Would Wardruna be her father, now? It didn't seem like a bad plan, especially if she was getting sisters out of the deal. She'd never had a father before, but Wardruna would surely know how all that worked. She didn't have to worry about it as long as he was willing to advise her. "Okay," she agreed with a cheery wag of her tail.

The dark girl pranced forward to nuzzle her lord, and then - just as quickly - began leading the way to weeping rock once more. It was only just ahead, so it didn't take long for them to break through the trees and catch sight of the wide, leaky rockface. "Grátandi Rokk," she said with a flourish, doing a happy little dance as she waited for his pronouncement.

Icelandic/Northern || Common || Norwegian/Fen's Tongue
December 05, 2017, 04:53 AM
Wardruna
Easthollow
Delta
        What is a wife? “They will be my consorts. They will be companions to me and to their sisters and they will bear me children if they are willing.” Wardruna offers her what he means when he speaks the word sister wife. It sounds ...worse than what he means it and he can't help but wince as his rough translation but he's never been overly romantic or poetic. “but then there is Dama. The Lady or Wife. She will be the one I take as my official mate. She will help me with leadership duties and be the monarch of the sister wives.” He explains, hoping that he is making sense to her. “That’s right, wife has husband.” He reiterates with a small nod. She prances forward to nuzzle him and Wardruna accepts the gesture with a warm rumble of contentment in his chest and follows her as she leads the way just a bit further to a place she calls Weeping Rock. If they become an official pack, Wardruna reminds himself. If they only remain an unofficial group then...a few things will change but otherwise much will simply remain the same.

        Rock feels like an understatement Wardruna thinks as he looks up at the large, rocky structure It’s littered with grasses, mosses and ferns and water flows down it’s face into a small pond. He can see the shallows and where they give way to a dark abyss in the middle. Wardruna’s depth perception is still off as he learns to adjust to having a single, functioning eye so he can’t judge it very well himself and suddenly he, whom had never had paternal feelings in his life before this bizarre instance ( perhaps it is the thought of having all these consorts and the impending knowledge that he might very well be a father in the coming new year ) wonders how deep the pond goes and thinks it might not be good to having any birthing/rendezvous dens too close to this particular internal territory. He does not fancy the idea of pulling drowned pups from it. Yet, it’s aesthetic and he can appreciate it.

        It’s nice, He breathes and frowns slightly at the pond. Not a good idea to have any birthing or rendezvous dens anywhere near here, though. He voices his concern aloud but overall what he’s thus seen of Sleepy Fox Hollow he is undeniably pleased with it.
December 06, 2017, 02:43 PM
Sif
Lone Wolves

Sif's mental picture of her new life continued to improve, expand, and clarify with each new conversation she had. It seemed almost too good to be true for the young shewolf, but Sif found herself willing to believe.

"Okay," she said softly, feeling proud and bashful all at once.

She giggled at his concern over pups, and quickly began leading the male back toward the center of the territory. The whitebark pines soon loomed ahead of them - they were moving at a faster pace as Sif's excitement mounted once more. 

"Refurhol," she chirped, presenting him with the narrow hole in the roots of the trees. It wasn't too impressive yet, but - "Make bigger?" she suggested, kicking some dirt away from the entrance. Doubt began to fill her chest. They had a big family, and not everyone would fit into this old fox den. "We will fine better," she said quickly, hoping to cover up her shame.

Icelandic/Northern || Common || Norwegian/Fen's Tongue
December 07, 2017, 04:28 AM
Wardruna
Easthollow
Delta
        Wardruna is pleased that Sif simply accepts it. That she doesn’t appear to be bothered about the kind of life she’s signed up for. It’s so vastly different from any experience he’s had before or even witnessed with thralls — even the ones that had been given their freedom. Offering the choice, the northerner realizes now, makes all the difference. She lets out a soft giggle after her voices his concern about the pond and potential future pups and his ears twitch as he follows her deeper into the territory, enjoying the sound of her giggle as it lingers in the air. Trees with white bark began to appear, growing in numbers the further in she leads him and when they pause he moves to stand before her, his functioning eye flickering over the narrow hole she presents to him. He bows his head slightly to inspect it further, ghosting closer to the abandon den’s mouth and Sif. It is too small for all of them and he feels compelled to speak up when he hears the tinge of doubt in her tone. We find use of it, He assures her in the Northern tongue. but we should look for some place bigger for us all to den in.” Wardruna murmurs with a slight nod when she mentions looking for something better. He knows that there may be a chance they will have to build something big enough to accommodate all of them with plenty of space left overs but perhaps, Wardruna considers, they may get lucky enough to find something that would suit their needs.