Bearclaw Valley my carnivore heart comes out after dark
hell is empty and
all the devils are here
133 Posts
Ooc — Mochi
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#1
All Welcome 

For the second time in his life Wardruna turns from something he wants — that he hadn’t realized how fiercely he wanted until it begun to form into an idea. It leaves a bitter taste of defeat in his mouth but ultimately it is sensible. Sleepy Fox Hollow could sustain them through the winter, likely, but without enough wolves to sate his ideal group size it raises too many concerns. Wardruna’s hunting is still a forty-sixty success rate with the slim forty percent chance of success. It has become easier …easier to live around the permanent hyphema that has left him blinded in his left eye. Yet. Yet, it remains a challenge and he would not rely solely upon Sif, Poet and Noma with meager contributions from him. It makes the most sense to him to find a pack to settle with through the winter and maybe try to strike out come spring. At least this time it is his choice. At least this time he is not alone.

His steps slow as they approach the impregnable valley and the sole path that leads into it. Bordered with huge boulders, rocks and conifers that reach like greedy, spindly fingers towards the heavens. The scent of wolves clings to the ground, and Wardruna’s black, leathery nostrils flare as he drinks in the unknown scents. It is closer to Easthollow than he would have liked, admittedly, but it is not terribly far from the Hollow. It had it’s pro et contra but with the devouring chill of winter upon them Wardruna feels certain that this is the right choice even if it tastes acrid and bitter; but Wardruna is no stranger to surviving and knows in the end it will always be stronger than his pride.

“It is not too far from the Hollow,” Wardruna begins as he turns to face the three of them, his back to the yawning mouth of the valley. “and it looks well protected.” Of course, he does not know for sure what lays within the rocky walls of the valley but well fortified is a good sign, in his experience. "We can see if they will take us," He suggests, inviting them to voice their opinions on whether the four of them should proceed or keep going and risk the journey to find somewhere more established with the room to take them.
your hands are wet
with blood of an empire.
you lick it off.
even hell is holy
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#2
It feels weird to be part of this again. He gives her her freedom but she does not necessarily take it. She is not bound by the things he wants of her anymore but she doesn’t have anywhere else to go. She can’t face Easthollow anymore, knowing that eventually she’ll be found out. It has to be later when she can redeem herself, that she can shed away Noma once and for all and be the wolf they once remember. Maybe the girl inside her isn’t dead anymore.

They do not get far before they find the valley and he seems satisfied with it. Her brows knit together and she shoots him a look, turning to the other two wolves in the group. She still doesn’t know what to make of them but for now she lets things pan out and though she objects to the decision, she doesn’t yet speak against the idea.
do you want to break me like you were fourteen
and someone dared you to break the law?
457 Posts
Ooc — mixedhearts
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#3
It was sad to leave the Hollow behind, especially since that was the only place she thought Snowe might go back to. But in the end, Wardruna's call was louder than that of her friend, and she accompanied him as he set out from Easthollow with a heart that was heavy, but full.

She remained between Poet and Noma, sheltering between the older women in search of comfort. Noma seemed to offer very little, but Poet's presence felt warm and bright.

At Wardruna's prompting, she gave an enthusiastic nod. It would be scary to meet all new wolves, but she was eager to get past all the uncertainty of travel. Scouting was one thing, but she liked to know where she needed to return home to.
i'll be damned if i end up playing Job with god's loving hand on my throat
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#4


She follows alongside Sif quietly, observing the group behind pale yellow eyes. Of the trio she is closest to the clay-colored girl, having spent the past few weeks nearby. Wardruna is as inscrutable as ever, a force of nature she is helpless but to follow. She has not met his other companion yet; the woman is quiet and hard to read, but she draws no conclusions yet. 

There is another group here, she realises, following the line of Wardruna's back over to the valley. The portent seems to want their opinion, but Poet has none to offer. She touches her nose to the side of Sif's neck briefly, contemplatively, and pulls back to offer her own short nod.
Kunujâk
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Ooc — Kuro
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#5
A blur of raging fire shot through the heart of the valley, cackling and panting with a ghost nipping at its heels. It zigged and zagged, trying every possible way that it could concoct to get away from the beast pursuing it, but its attempts were futile; the flame’s brain was so preoccupied that it hadn’t noticed the sound of rushing waters growing louder. Skidding to a halt, the vulpine whipped its frail body around and lurched to the right in one last attempt to outsmart the demon chasing it, only to see at the very last second the jaws waiting there to grab it—too slow. Alexander’s jaws clamped down around the animal’s neck and applied enough of pressure to prohibit it from breathing, but not enough to kill it immediately. No. A point needed to be made. The young vixen needed to understand that her games were not welcome in his valley, nor her thieving habits. Loosening his grip, he waited for that last glimmer of hope to flicker through her eyes before he bit back down, this time ending her life. Yet, he did not tear into her flesh thereafter, he merely dropped the body at the river’s edge—a gift for Arthur, he decided—and turned away from it with a scowl scrawled across his face.

Assuming the fox to have originated from the glade—that was one downfall of his home, as far as he was concerned—he set off towards the valley’s entrance with the intention of issuing a very graphic warning to whichever skulks called the place home. Whilst he learned from Arthur that his mother had once held some sort of treaty with the foxes, and even allowed them to enter the valley as they pleased, he refused to uphold that deal. They were nothing more than lowly scavengers, and he would not have them thinking that they could steal from his pack and get away with it. The entire time that he walked he was fuming, a cocktail of negative emotions—anger, irritation, impatience, and so on—rolling off of his body in waves. And yet, by the time he reached the end of the pathway, there wasn’t a trace of anything left in his expression. On the way up, he’d caught wind of wolves and, by the time he was close enough to see them, had rid himself fully of all the distaste felt towards the foxes; wolves at his borders would not be treated the same as creatures as lowly as them.

With ears pushed forward and tail arched over his back, Alexander closed the distance between himself and the small group, though remained right on the edge of the boulder-filled walkway. His gaze was drawn to the largest member of the group; a male with a monochromatic coat, his stance giving Xan the impression that he was the one leading the party. His eyes then drifted over the rest of them, lingering on the brown wolf situated between the other two females; her eyes reminded him of his own, though they were a considerable amount of shades darker. Looking back to the assumed head, he gave a nod in place of a verbal greeting. “What brings you all here?” he asked immediately afterwards, inwardly preparing for a battle. Having not one, or even two, but an entire group of wolves outside of his home was unsettling, at best; he couldn’t recall ever seeing as many as were there before him now try to join a single pack all at once.
I can give it all to you, will you take it all from me
If love is a joke, then use me ruthlessly
Threads are titled after lyrics from Block B's “Toy”
hell is empty and
all the devils are here
133 Posts
Ooc — Mochi
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#6
It is not Sleepy Fox Hollow, it is not a place of their own creation but …it is shelter, it is a place to call home until it is safer to try again, until they do not have the pressure of survival bearing down upon their backs. At the sound of approaching footfalls Wardruna turns so that he faces the yawning mouth of the valley’s gate. The idea of having strangers at his back still causes the hair of his nape to bristle with unease and though his perception is still askew he can, at the very least, see the body language and can interpret it. He stands in front of the women, between them and the stranger that emerges, his stance protective. There is no guarantee on how this will go. It could go well for them and they could be sent away.

The male that approaches is large and draped in a coat of ivory that immediately sets Wardruna back into a brief flashback of his cruel father. The eyes are different: Dragur’s eyes are the color of moonbeams and this male is much too young besides. Still, it sends causes a sickeningly sweet feeling in the scar that mars his left eye; a ghost of the incredible pain he’d once felt there form the split flesh and the hyphema. The hyphema remains, the small pool of blood in his iris but it no longer pains him — the relief of pain was contingent on his failing eyesight in it. Wardruna’s ears cup forth and he offers a dip of his head in respect to the male, acknowledging him as the sovereign here. Wardruna has become good at swallowing his pride, at lowering himself to the measures that he needs to, to survive; and this time it is not just his own survival banking on this. Poet, Addie, and Sif are also affected by how this goes.

Introductions were not asked for but Wardruna offers them first anyway. “I am Wardruna,” He speaks before he steps slightly back and to the side so that he lingers closer to Sif. “and these are my wives: Poet, Addie and Sif.” He introduces them from left to right, his functioning jack-o-lantern gaze falling upon the stranger to take in his reaction as Wardruna finishes the introductions. Wardruna introduces them this way because it was what they would be if they would have been able to put their plans into motion. Besides, it is best to clarify that the four of them are a package deal: that all of them would be accepted or none of them would join. “We are looking for a home, if you have the space and would take us.” If anything Wardruna thinks he would struggle the most: his hunting ( and accordingly fighting ) skills are improving but he still has a long way to go before he can hunt and fight as he once had been able to.
your hands are wet
with blood of an empire.
you lick it off.
even hell is holy
460 Posts
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#7
Please skip Addie unless she’s needed.

Neither of the other two speak up and she does the same. She wonders briefly if they choose so out of obedience, or another reason, what made them choose Wardruna and if they really are okay with one another. She has more questions that she has time to ask but they are not given that time yet. Still, she moves along with them regardless, Maybe until she finds something better, or until she’s satisfied enough (or perhaps, settled enough), to stay with the viking.

Addie licks her lips and turns, looking to the pale wolf that comes their way. She does not keep her gaze in that direction, shuffling back behind the group and sitting down while they talk amongst themselves. When Wardruna deems her a wife, too, she shoots him a glance but does not attempt to get his attention, briefly wondering if she considers her to be the same. She licks her lips and turns away, observing as they try to weasel their way inside.
do you want to break me like you were fourteen
and someone dared you to break the law?
457 Posts
Ooc — mixedhearts
Warrior
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#8
When Addie fell back, Sif quickly closed the gap, blocking her from the pale wolf's sight. Although she felt only cool apathy from the older girl, her own feelings toward Addie were far warmer - and her protective streak burned hot toward all three of her companions. 

She preened when introduced as a wife, and shuffled excitedly from paw to paw as she regarded the strange male, wondering what sort of companion Wardruna planned to make of him.

(While she'd understood that they were seeking shelter away from the hollow, she had yet to realize that they would be under the command of another. Thus, she viewed Xan with a sort of guileless expectation, head tilted curiously to the side.)
i'll be damned if i end up playing Job with god's loving hand on my throat
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#9
SORRY

It does not take long for their company to be greeted by who, she assumes, runs the valley. She looks at him but feels nothing. That is okay; she is here because of the portent and her sister-wife, and the rest of the details she can allow to stay murky for now. There is a lightness in not having a duty or a reason for existing, she thinks. There is a lightness in simply existing because it is what you are doing.

Wardruna takes over introductions, and that is how the sinner learns their third's name. Addie. She notes the way Sif crowds in front of her protectively and sighs, feeling the need to step up as well, if only to make sure Sif isn't left unguarded. Wardruna calls them his wives. What a strange thing she's found herself in, only she can't bring herself to mind at all, and instead fixes the white-furred man with a lazy, heavy-lidded look. She doesn't know if they're meant to offer him anything to gain his favor, but she is all she is, and whether that will be enough (whether they all will be enough) is up to him, now.
Kunujâk
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Ooc — Kuro
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#10
It’s fine! ( ´ ▽ ` )ノ

Alexander’s focus remained on the male of the group, expecting him to be the one to answer; his assumptions were proven to be true as he took it upon himself to answer for the lot of them, as well as share names. Wardruna, Poet, Addie, and Sif. Again, he found his eyes trailing over towards the latter of the females, wondering about her eyes; they couldn’t possibly be related, as he was his mother’s only child with crimson eyes and his father’s other children wouldn’t be so quiet given who their mother was. It was a curious thing, nevertheless, though he reminded himself that it didn’t matter and wasn’t nearly important enough to hold his attention for very long. So he turned his gaze back to the man, what the girls were to him running through his mind: his wives. The Apaata was not unfamiliar with the idea of having more than one wife, his father having told him of it once before during a lesson about their family. Still, it wasn’t something that one often came across, so he was kind of taken aback by it; this he did not let show through, his features maintaining a neutral expression.

Putting the idea—and his questions on how exactly their arrangement worked—out of his head, he said, “My name’s Xan,” remembering then that he hadn’t yet introduced himself. And when their reason for being there was revealed, his mind was put at ease, though his body remained tense. “I have space,” he told them, putting it out in the open. “But what can you bring to the pack, other than your numbers?” If there was anything that he’d learned from being apart of Blackfeather, it was that no pack had space for slackers. If someone wasn’t prepared to pull their weight, it didn’t matter who or what they were—they needed to be removed.
I can give it all to you, will you take it all from me
If love is a joke, then use me ruthlessly
Threads are titled after lyrics from Block B's “Toy”
hell is empty and
all the devils are here
133 Posts
Ooc — Mochi
Offline
#11
oops this is late. T-T

Wardruna’s wives are silent giving him the allowance to speak for them in their current situation — it was probably easier, the northerner thinks without the chiming of four different voices. Xan is how the pale male introduces himself and Wardruna accepts the name of potential leader with a small nod. I have the space, the sovereign that calls himself Xan speaks and yet Wardruna senses there is a but lingering in the words left unspoken only to breach the veil of silence and take form in Xan’s question. It’s a fair question and not one that Wardruna had not anticipated but he realizes that he does not know what skills his wives have. While collecting them he hadn’t asked. It hadn’t been important …and now it was. Even Addie’s skills — whom he has known the longest — remain unknown to the northerner that calls himself their husband. Wardruna might have been raised as commander of savages that he called his brothers and sisters in arms before his lost challenge and failure to die as he’d been meant to but he has a gift of glib ( though whether he has always had it or it was simply his way of adapting to having his entire purpose stripped from him and very likely always remaining out of his reach as a feasible skillset is largely unknown).

For a moment Wardruna deliberates upon how truthful he wants to be; because none of his wives have been told about his partial blindness. Whether they figured it out on their own or not is a different story but he has not told them and that leaves him with the question of how vulnerable he wants to make himself in their presence. “I was once a renowned warrior; but since I lost my eyesight in my damaged eye I can claim the skill as past only,” He draws his salmon pink tongue along his jowls, the hairs at the nape of his neck bristling as he exposes his largest vulnerability. It makes him nervous and there’s an unease twitch of his ears. “but that doesn’t mean I’m not a well experience tactician and tracker, ambassador or rogue even. I’d be most useful to you in the politics and strategic side.” He tells Xan, thinking that everyone could hunt and fight. It was natural of their ilk but his mind has become his sharpest weapon in lieu of once wickedly sharp tooth and claw.

Wardruna falls silent then turning his head to look at @Sif, @Addie, @Poet, encouraging them to speak up and give Xan their own skill sets.
your hands are wet
with blood of an empire.
you lick it off.
457 Posts
Ooc — mixedhearts
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#12
Sif's mind had been wandering, and her eyes trailing slowly away from the two males and toward the pretty landscape that stood just beyond Xan. Her paws ached to discover it - she hadn't dared while she'd been on her own, since it had smelled of Xan and bears. But if Xan was friendly and unharmed, she didn't see why they couldn't stay here.

She jumped a bit when she realized Wardruna was looking toward her, expectation clear in his eyes. What was she meant to say? Oh - she should have paid more attention!

"I - um. Sif," she said haltingly, trying to come up with something on the spot. Something that would make Xan be friends with them. "Am-  um- hunt? Run fast. Be friends," she went on, suddenly feeling very young and silly for trying to speak with Xan and Wardruna, who were clearly very competent adults. She couldn't even talk right! "Nice," she offered feebly, eyes darting to Wardruna for help.
i'll be damned if i end up playing Job with god's loving hand on my throat
184 Posts
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Away
#13


She commits the man's name to memory. Xan, their new leader. Alpha, she supposes the term is. The men talk of skills and offerings; Poet half listens, disinterested. She had not known of Wardruna's disability but she remembers the strange marking in his eye that so drew her to him. Her people valued the loss of senses, for it led one to truth without distraction. More the pity it's only the one eye, she thinks, though it reaffirms her decision to stay by his side.

Wardruna's look requests they speak too. She sighs. She'd rather not. But then Sif begins to speak, clearly struggling with the question, and feeling a surge of protective instinct, the sinner lays her snout across the clay-furred girl's shoulders. Her eyes find Xan's face. "In a past life, I was a priestess," Poet tells him, voice low. "I am familiar with plants and their uses, holy and medicinal, and I am gifted in oration. I can tend to your gardens." It's a saying, not a literal truth, though whether Xan will understand her isn't in her paws.
Kunujâk
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Ooc — Kuro
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#14
Final post from me! Could maybe wrap this up with one more round from you guys…? Or however you three choose to do it! ^^

Following his question he listened. The albino was silent, giving the group of travellers the floor to speak as their offerings of skills were given. And as he kept from speaking he wondered if this was how it might always be from now on, with him having to stop and listen, rather than run straight on through things; the notion gave way for confusion to grow within him, unable to tell whether or not he liked the thought. Soon after he decided that it didn’t matter either way, whether or not he liked it, because it was necessary. If he wished to have his desires fulfilled and return the valley to its former glory, then he would have to change—evolve into something greater, a better version of himself. No longer were his teeth the only thing he could speak with, however tempting it was to continue on that way.

The reveal of a vulnerability had his ears erect atop his skull, listening far closer than ever before. He was struck immediately by the urge to turn him and his wives away, right then and there, for the weakness alone—but he did not. Muzzling the nagging voice in his head and refusing to give in to impulse, he continued to listen, recognising the good that stemmed from the bad. Though a worthy warrior no longer, he was not a useless creature to keep around. There were other benefits to granting him entry that outweighed the risks; Xan had to learn to accept the mind as being just as powerful as jaws, and what better way to take a step in that direction that by letting a wounded soldier join his ranks? In the long run, that would likely prove to be the better of his options, anyways.

With a nod, he showed that he had taken his words into account, but offered no hints at what his final decision might be. He instead looked towards the women as they shared their skills next, finding them just as useful—for the most part, that is. Neither being friends or nice were things that he could see a use for but he kept his mouth shut, letting only her abilities as a hunter influence his train of thought. And it was easy to ignore her more unconventional skills when Poet spoke, finding her offerings to be quite useful; he didn’t have someone within his ranks yet that could wield the medicinal properties of plants, or at least not one that he trusted.

Alexander did not wait for the third girl to speak before making his decision, as her input wouldn’t contribute much—the strengths of the others would not be outweighed by what she could not offer, so he left her to slide by on their backs. “I’ll let you join—all of you,” he said aloud then, gaze trailing across the females before settling on Wardruna. “Even with your eye, I hope I can trust you to fight, should we ever be under attack.” Trust was a difficult thing for him to put in someone, but he had no other way to put it. He wanted to trust them, as well as whoever else might follow him in the future. So, he let himself put the smallest sliver of trust in the group, silently hoping to himself that they wouldn’t let him down. It was a two-sided path, however, so he would also have to give them an opportunity to return the sentiment—which meant sharing a few extra details about their new home.

“Before any of you venture too far in and pick up on his scent, I should let you know that there’s a bear here,” he started with, figuring it was the most important thing. “He’s been here since before my parents even found this place, and he’s harmless. Just don’t get on his nerves—he likes to complain a lot.” And he would be the one to hear those complaints, just like his mother before him. “We also have neighbours—Easthollow,” he added, leaving out just how close they were; he figured this was something that they would discover on their own. “The pack is led by my sister, Desna, so you don’t have to worry about them. Just don’t outright disrespect them, I don’t want any tension between us.” Whether us meant the packs or him and his sister, he did not clarify, because he did not know. Turning, he threw his head in the direction of the valley, motioning for them to follow him inside.

“Welcome to Bearclaw Valley,” he said over his shoulder, then led them down the path. Within the valley’s walls, he bid them each farewell after pointing out the direction of the waterfall and maple woods—though the latter was near to them and easily seen—and then turned away to carry on with their days. Whilst they were left to explore, he’d return to the borders.
I can give it all to you, will you take it all from me
If love is a joke, then use me ruthlessly
Threads are titled after lyrics from Block B's “Toy”