A mid-summer storm lingered on the wooded horizon, threatening an afternoon full of rain. Such a threat drove the youngest Frostfur from the comforts of their home and into the clearing before the den. The morning had been spent by his brother side, exploring the clearing before their home and making sure that all butterflies were a respectful distance from their home.
He was poised much like a regal sphinx, his legs neatly folded underneath as he soaked up the last of the fleeting rays. Overcast conditions reigned overhead as he kept a watchful eye on the forest before them. With a good majority of his energy spent on his morning romp, he fought the urge to nap and instead stay awake to soak in all that the great outdoors had to offer him.
Oversized paws paddled and kicked as Cypress Benvolio Frostfur, wrapped in slumber, fought to gain purchase in an imagined spar with his brother. His puppy-blunt muzzle twitched into a snarl, a thready growl warbling from his vocal cords in harmless little puffs. He was so close — if he could just reach the scruff of his infuriatingly elusive opponent, he’d win this one. Flipping over to his side with a hefty thump and a cry of imagined effort, the Neverwinter prince startled himself awake. Skittering sideways, his sooty feathers puffed out with remembered ferocity, the Neverwinter prince blinked his milky blue eyes and immediately sought out his dandelion fluff brother. A soot sprite no longer, the pudgy little raven was eager to spread his restless wings — and although he had only napped for a short time, he felt completely refreshed.
“Noch!” he called out softly, his youthful treble high and sweet and unabashed. Still a little grumpy with Rannoch because of the way he’d bested his darkling brother in the dream-spar, Cypress bounded up alongside the other puppy nevertheless and flopped down unceremoniously beside him. “Whassit?” he piped cheerfully, wondering what exactly had so caught the grayscale puppy’s rapt attention. Demandingly he rolled over onto his side, shoving his brother with all four paws to garner a reaction from him and cease his sphinx-like stillness. Both boys were beginning to grow lankier, their legs beginning to lengthen as the chubbiness of their bodies just barely began to melt away, and it was becoming apparent even at this young age that Rannoch would prove to be bigger in bone and more bulky in frame than his wild-furred brother.
In the sky lingered a damp heaviness — one that felt new to Cypress; it felt as though the whole world was waiting for something — holding its breath. “Noch,” he wheedled.
As Goldhawk caught a reflection of his bonny, bonny self in a corner of river, he saw that the drizzle was making his golden fur a shade that looked more like sand. Huh. It reminded him oddly of Kyron, an old friend long-gone. He hadn't thought of Kyron for a while.
But he did now, and other fragments of the past too, as he padded through the darkening weather until — ah, puppies! He recognised them at once, but didn't know their names. How d'you do, little lords
, said the bard in his chipper voice as he approached. Are you summoning us a storm?
The tranquility of the moment disappeared suddenly as Cypress padded onto the scene. Perking his ears, Rannoch turned his head at his brother’s approach and watched his brother with smiling eyes. This tail thumped upon the ground and a smile spread upon his inky lips the darker wolf flopped onto the ground alongside him, unaware of his battle victory in dream-land. With a question now in the air between them, the youngest Frostfur turned his eyes skyward once more. “I unno----” his sentence was unexpectedly cut short as Cypress ushered a swift blow to his side. His brows grew dark and his lips fell into a deep from. “Cy!” he hissed, jumping onto his paws so that they could clear the short distance between them. As he stood over his brother, Rannoch drew a punch into Cypress’ gut. He smiled then, feeling as if justice had been served.
As such justice had been delivered another wolf came onto the scene. Drawing his attention from his brother to the stranger, Rannoch’s tilted as he mirrored his confusion. He had certainly never seen this wolf that stood before them. He wore a coat of gold-- a color that Rannoch had never seen before. He looked on for a moment with a look of concentration and he took a step towards the other, wishing to investigate further. “Whossit?” he asked, tipping his head back to get a better look at the man. Though he wished to know more about the new wolf, a word that he had said had caught the child’s attention: storm.
Blinking at the word, his head hinged to the side and his confusion deepened. “Sooom?” He mimicked poorly, wishing for the other to elaborate.
I thiiiiink Cypress is a cameo? :D But if I'm wrong, please do prod me for my cheekiness in skipping the posting order!
Although Goldhawk hadn't seen Eshe for a while, a Lady of whom he was fond and who had been the one to accept him into Neverwinter to begin with, he felt like he could see her right here in her children. Sure they were boys, but they were also their mother and father both.
He regarded the two with a smile, leaning down low to regard little frames that would no doubt one day rival their father's.
My name's Goldhawk
, he exclaimed proudly, actively deciding to go easy on his usual ramblings in case the kids got lost.
What's yours, hm?
The air whooshed from Cypress’ lungs as Rannoch delivered a swift punch to his abdomen — “oof!” — and for a moment or two it stunned the little raven into a sense of enforced calm. He watched the sky above him with its darkening clouds and strange, heavy stillness and allowed oxygen to seep back into him slowly — and then, invigorated by the deep pull of his breath, he bounded to his paws with the intention of bludgeoning his brother good and proper. His muzzle wrinkled, lips curling up to reveal his fangs, as he bent his gangly limbs into a poor parody of a stalking cat — but just as he made ready to pounce, a new wolf arrived on the scene.
“Whossit?” questioned the grayscale cub, and Cypress nodded agreement. Who was this dapper wolf with the bright, burnished fur and ruddy eyes? The raven fledgling stepped forward as the wolf introduced himself and bent his tall body low, his infinitesimal forepaws aiming to find purchase on the bridge of Goldhawk’s nose so he could fix the stranger with a cross-eyed stare of scrutiny. “Sunummasorm?” he parroted, looking to Noch with a measure of consternation. Sometimes, if one of the boys didn’t have the answer to particular question, the other would be able to fill in — but Rannoch looked just as confused as Cypress himself. “Sunummasumma?” he fumbled, the new and unfamiliar syllables becoming a mouthful of garbled alphabet soup that brought a bright, amused smile to his face. “Noch! Ayu sunnamumma sorm? Gohawk?”
Catching the tail end of the hawk’s question, the little raven puffed himself up proudly. “I Cy!” he proclaimed proudly. “Cy’piss Benowio Fossur.”
Cypress is going to join our posting order, if that's okay!
Still stuck on this foreign word, Rannoch looked onto the stranger with confusion shining in his baby blue eyes. A heavy line fell upon his brow as he looked onto the wolf cloaked in the golden coat. As Cypress attempted in deciphering the word, Rannoch fell back onto his haunches and looked to his brother with a tilted head.
“Summa… summa som?” The words came slowly as he attempted his best attempt at saying the strange word that had been said.
“Wassit?” he asked, turning to Goldhawk.
“An ‘m Rannook Tiburrs Frosfur!” Came his next reply when his name had been asked, his posture picking himself up so he could sit proudly as he declared his name.
“Rannoch! Cypress! Come on home, babies, and see what your Paw brought you!” Automatically turning his head toward the call, Cypress knew without looking that Rannoch was doing the same — and as one, the boys turned to answer their mother’s summons.