Though restless, Portia held her ground outside her den. She enjoyed the cool, fall air and organized her cache, placing them in neat, bowl-shaped rocks and skulls-- both which had taken ages to find. The skulls were harder to find that the rocks, though Portia was not against killing for beauty. A good number of coyotes and foxes that had wandered too close to the border found their place in her collection. But, in all honestly, the Skayona preferred to find and use already deteriorated carcasses-- it was just easier to clean.
Today though, she found that she was almost out of storage units. Her pile had withered down to a measly two rocks, and though her all of her herbs and seeds were beautifully organized and planted, she knew her tendencies to bite off more than she could chew... she'd need to gather more.
Portia gingerly picked up the bowls filled with seeds and places them on indents carved into the wall, making for neat shelf space. The potted plants sat in a row just outside, lining the area in beautifully-- and somewhat eerily-- around her den. Off to the side was an actual garden, which she tended to often, but the potted plants were so much more homey to her.
With a huff, the woman stood and made her way to the borders. She'd been spending a decent amount of time there, and noticed a dead wolf laying just outside them. Dio's scent was all over it-- as was Gavriel's and Thuringwethils, but she was more focused on Dio. She sniffed it without hesitation, assuming it was a loner who got too close to the borders or a prospective joiner who made a horrible first impression. Without much afterthought, she clamped her jaws tightly around the neck of the black wolf, but had yet to decapitate anything bigger than a coyote... so failed somewhat terribly. She spit out the fur on her tongue and stared down, wondering what she was supposed to do now.
almost forgot! lmao <3
Admittedly, the yearling had no interest in meeting the dire acquaintance with the foreign wolves of Sleeping Dragon. It was not a necessity. Rebekka's sole purpose within the tribe was to serve Heda, not prance about canoodling with wolves that came and went like the rain. Yet, she could not ignore the peculiar ink splattered pelt that met her eyes as she went about marking the borders. Curious eyes watched as the other did something quite interesting — taking its neck in her mouth and biting down. Rebekka stared. A creature of impulse herself, Rebekka found the whole thing quite curious, to observe another wolf attempt to behead an already dead lowlife. It was something Rebekka herself would do — something she had not expected as she had watched the dainty female wolf carry about her day. A light smirk turned the corners of her already crooked lips upwards.
Slauntering from her position within the shadows of the trees, amused yet wicked eyes fell on the other. What about this woman sparked her curiosity, she could not begin to understand. Perhaps, it was the undeniable fact that the woman was simply too beautiful and too petite so be decapitating a dirty mongrel for the sake of first glances.And yet, the girl could not resist asking. “Chit laik yu doing?” The huntress' tone was lightly condescending; an unspoken entertainment simply existed in the way she spoke, yet truly, Rebekka had zero sense of appropriate humor nor the capacity to remember that not all could understand a word she spoke.
There has always been a slight disconnect from Gavriel and the rest of the wolves of Sleeping Dragon only for the reason they are not Seageda. They are not the wolves he fought with against other packs or hunted in order to feed their own. The coastal home will always run through his veins but things are different now. His children ran the rocky terrain here, instead of their sandy shores, and are the first generation born within Drageda. As much as he often missed his home, and felt a little apart, he knew he isn't meant to be anywhere else. He'd grown fond of them, of Gyda and Dio and everyone in between and there are a few wolves he isn't necessarily close to but time will likely change that.
The border on the borders of their borders has been there for some time, not worthy of a proper burial but instead a warning to others. The extent of her death, for he had not been there that day, is unknown to him but the end result has given him all the information he needed and not a question was brought to attention.
Making another round of the borders, he is surprised to find Portia with old blood and spoiled meat smeared across her face and Rebekka not too far. Portia he has gotten to known but the Trigeda wolf is often elusive, often leaving him to wonder if she still exists within their realm. Her scent lingers here and there, telling him she isn't gone, but none of them are strong and their time together has been limited. He is able to catch the garbled sounds of a question and he picks up his pace to a steady trot with ears forward to hear the answer.
She looked up when she heard the other coming, not recognizing her at all. She spoke the tongue that she heard-- most often-- the children use, and hesitated to grasp what the woman had said. It took her a moment of staring and licking rotting blood from her lips before it somewhat registered. She was asking what she was doing-- and that made sense, she didn't really look like someone who went around and tore heads off dead bodies. She hesitated again to find an answer, but slowly she responded with "Ma gav... for... plants." Maybe that would get across-- did the tan and black wolf not speak the common tongue? Or was that simply a greeting. What if she didn't know the word plants?
"Skayona, uh, Fisa," she added hopefully. Gavriel caught the corner of her eye and her tail began to wag furiously, beckoning him closer.
The woman did not understand. From what very little she gathered, the other needed something of the corpse, yet the technicality of the situation was something she did not come close to picking up. Her brow furrowed, eyes transitioning from the woman to the dead one as if the notion that a female like her would need something from a dead body. Yet, with the title came a reckoning, leaving Rebekka to realize what her mistake had been. There where more than one role a wolf could play within the tribe other than the common brute and brawn; yet Rebekka very quickly realized she wasn't exactly sure she wanted to know what the small woman of her practices wanted from a dead body.
Yet, as Gavriel arrived, her eyes wandered from the mutilated corpse to the man himself. It was true, she had seen little of Gavriel yet it was not of a hesitance against him, per say, but a nature of self independence among wolves that did not speak her language that made her keep her distance from the rest as a whole. It was curious that she had not actively sought out the one person that besides — Heda herself — that could understand her; but assumed the man had better things to do than converse with a orally awkward woman he didn't really know while his children were of more importance than her social life. Either way, she had come to terms with the fact that the forigen Sleeping Dragon wolves would soon learn their ways as a whole, leaving her temporarily in a position of an advantage. With this fact, she was ready to be made known.
Assuming what the woman wanted, she cast her attention from Gavriel to the corpse, making quick work of screwing off it's head in savage actions involving pointed teeth and circular motions. In little time, she broke away from the bloodied mess, looking from the woman to the prized head as if to ask if this was what she wanted. What a healer wanted with a decapitated head, the Rebekka would not even begin to question but figure, some things were better left unsaid.
“Der,” Rebekka sighed, taking a step back to observe her work. “Chit gon?” The woman asked, unkowning that Portia had in fact already answered the very question in a word that Rebekka had never heard of before.
There's a brief exchange after he arrived. Portia says something that, at first, doesn't register as their language but he blinks a few times as Rebekka responds that's what happened. He turns his attention to speak but his jaws snap shut as Rebekka works against the corpse to sloppily decapitated the body. Gavriel takes a few steps forward to close to remaining distance. There's a disgusting sound of rotten flesh giving away to the pressure and then tossed aside like the life didn't matter before.
Knowing nothing for the reason it lay here, other than it simple does, he finally opens his mouth again to speak: "Bluma," he says before turning to Portia. "I know where you can leave it so that it can be picked clean. Unless... you want to eat rotting brains," he says with a smirk and wag of his tail.
When the woman tore the head off, Portia did a quick little hop of excitement. "Thank you!" she exclaimed, in the moment forgetting the word for thank you. She dipped her head happily, tail waving with excitement. Her head turned back to Gavriel and dipping once more to him. "Thank you," she breathed again happily, ears perked. Curiously, she noted the word Bluma, only assuming it meant something related to plants. With a quick nod, she glanced between the two. "I'd love that, thank you, sweetheart," she said to the Gona, her eyes shining with excitement.
"How long will it take? I'm running out of storage and wanted to go seed gathering before the winter comes," she added quickly, gaze flickering between the two, but focusing mostly on Gavriel.
short post, sorry guys!
The woman continued to look mildly alarmed as Gavriel spoke of a garden, involving a head. Opting to rather not continue to question how a head could possibly contribute to a garden of any kind, she blinked and turned away from the conversation to the topic of a new one. The other woman exclaimed, alarming Rebekka for a few seconds before realizing this was of excitement rather than rage. The words '
thank you' was not one she had ever used in English but something that was easily translatable; Rebekka inclined her head in a slight nod. Some of the next few words she could get, mostly the gist of moving and the time of winter coming upon them soon. Eyes flickered from Portia to Gavriel, a blank gaze upon her features for her only further use would be to move the body parts to wherever the healer had planned. The woman really had nothing better to do than offer her services, and partially for her curiosity in the strange foreign woman.
Portia expressed her gratitude. To the outside world, it probably looked a little weird with one wolf happy as a clam to receive the head of another wolf. The idea causes him to smirk but he brushes it off to find she seems to be in a little rush to get things moving. Frowning, Gavriel knows he can’t give her the best answer—or the answer she wants to hear.
“It’ll take the birds a few days, at most, to pick it clean, but with a wolf head you really want to make sure it’s cleaned,” he explains. “Not a lot is passed from our prey to us, but one wolf to another, who knows. And who knows what was wrong with this one,” he says, turning back to the body left on the ground. There weren’t enough damage done for a wolf fighting properly for its life, nor did Thuringwethil bear the wounds she should have.
"Hm," came Portia's response, her tail flicking thoughtfully. "Well I'll just kick it there then, and I can stand not to collect anything for a few days-- or just place it willy nilly in my den," she added, smiling playfully and nudging the man gently on the shoulder.
"Lead the way, hun," she said, her gaze turning to Rebekka. She gave a brief head nod to ask her to accompany them, smiling still.
Skipping Rebekka so this doesn't get too old. Wrapping up!
Even though Portia states she doesn’t mind, he can tell she is a little impatient. He smiles, though, and hopes she’ll wait until it’s cleaned and everything on it is wiped away, making it safe for her—and, in result, all of them. Who knew what had been wrong with the now-dead wolf. Shrugging it off, he move toward where the severed head sits on the ground and carefully picks it up. He makes one gesture—for the both of them, should Rebekka want to follow—and began the trek up the mountain.