Wolf RPG

It had been attracted to the site of a fresh kill. There was blood on the snow, and a few lean pickings left here and there like bits of grisley confetti. The great bird stalked among the ruins of the creature that had once been: a hale and healthy deer, now met with its heavy-handed fate. And, although there was a deep and fervent hunger in the bird's eyes, it did not peck at the gristle or the endtrails that had been left behind.

Instead, it searched through the snow, seeming intent on finding some unknowable object. Back and forth it paced, great, glossy wings mantling every now and again as it maneuvered over the uneven ground. It seemed, despite its duck-footed gait, rather more unsettling than comical.

The oddity of a raven had not been the only one attracted by said carcass—at least, that’s what Aure had been attracted to, at first. But as she made her way through frosted foliage and snowdrift, intent on seeing what she may return with scraps of the cervine, her spirit veered towards that of the great, glimmering raven picking its way there and back again.

Like a whelp, she started over, having absolutely no regard for possible danger or personal space; rather than unsettling, she was fervently intrigued. With eyes wide and wondering as she tipped her head in curio, ”What find, you?” she pipped, her words chopped for the raven’s tongue and voice remaining northern and airy.

The astronomer’s hackles shivered in anticipation, rosy nose scrunched and tail a-feather with expectancy. What was this raven searching so passionately for? Why? When would they exhume whatever it was looking for?

It did not have the ears or nose of a wolf; only the sudden shimmer of a pale pelt in the sunlight alerted the bird to another's presence, but it had been aware enough of its surroundings that, by the time the wolf came to stand before it, it had already drawn itself to still and unnerving attention. And then the wolf spoke, and it clicked its beak once, twice, as though it did not understand.

But it was not a common bird. It could not be a common bird, for how it stood there without fear, black eyes calmly surveying.

"What I seek..." it said in a low voice, leaning toward the wolf with what would've been a smile, if such things were possible for the bird, "...does not lie among bones."

Words of what this raven sought is what snagged Aure's attention, and she leaned forward in the same fashion that the corvid did; starlit eyes gullible and glittering, her lips parted in a hushed 'o'. As its words croaked and crawled into her straining ears, her lashes fluttered in thought. Then a rare, true smile, lunar-bright and just as resplendant, charted its course along the corners of her lips; tugging them up up up into borean sweetness.

"How enchanting," she breathed, gazing avidly back into the abysmal dark of the raven's eyes. Her voice trembled, whispered and athirst, "Minunat! There is nothing more I could ever wont for, to help you. We must seek it out together!"

And then she drew away, and began to follow the raven's former suit of searching; snowshoe paws grasping and feeling through the snow and foliage, long, long legs giving cause to stride as she did. Her tail feathered out behind her, shivering in delight as she giggled -- giggled -- like a girl. Whatever it was that did not bed with bones... she couldn't wait for them to discover it!

If the wolf's sudden motion caused it any fear or surprise, it did not show on the bird's face, nor in any twitch or tightening of its bearing. It remained as watchful as ever, eyes and head following the motions of the girl as she bounded 'round the scene of the kill, slowly straightening from its bow.

It seemed to be puzzled. There was a curious cant to its dark head, and yet, something seemed to relax in the regal line of its shoulders.

"Child," it called her back - for they were all children, to her - "Do not waste your energy. It is not here; I must find it elsewhere." It blinked at her, seeming to measure her once more - more thoroughly, this time, than it had at first.

At once, she came to a halt as she heard the croaking chide, sending up a flurry of snowdrift about her. She whirled about to find the raven studying her—something in its tone and eyes that she couldn’t place. Like a pale page, she dutifully returned, tail shivering like swan’s feathers at her hocks.

If it wasn’t here... she bit her lip, ruminating, and then lit up like a young star once again, ”Have you thought of searching ze Tangled-wood?” Her voice had taken on a dreamy, hazy quality as she informed the seeker of what she knew. ”I do not frequent it often, yet, it is a place of gloam... of secrecy. Mysteries. There is much to find in ze labyrinth that a ravine may be.”

Finch-like, she cocked her head at the raven, wondering—hoping—that she may come along on this search. It’d been so long, too long since she’d been on an adventure; a good intrigue.

Although curious, the bird had remained rather passive until the Tanglewood was mentioned. Here, its dark eyes seemed to come to life in intrigue - and something a lot like amusement.

"I have been to the Tanglewood," it replied, its tone seeming to ask what the pale shewolf had been doing there. "There is much to find there. But not what I seek."

It ruffled its feathers, seeming to retreat into thought for a moment. All movement ceased; not even the wind seemed able to touch it. Soon enough, though, the creature was in motion once more, moving closer still to the pale child. "You are kind, girl. Tell me your name - and do not lie."

Ah, so this dark voyager had already been there, but had not found what she needed. Tipping her head to the other side, she merely chirruped, ”A-hm. I found a loner, who has now been inducted into our cliffs.” A pink nose scrunched at the thought, a bit perturbed herself. ”Not quite ze enthralling find I expected.” But neither would she besmirch the name of another living soul, deserving or no, even in her excitement.

At the raven’s notion of praise and a name, the skayona couldn’t help but preen, fidgeting as she sat herself down and tried to retain some courtly sense of decorum. Up until now, only one had come to know her birth-name—the thought of lying to her feathered, enigmatic consort was out of thought entirely.

So, she said the same that she had told her amant: ”I was born as Aurëwen.” For a glimpse, she wondered whether or not it would be courtly to ask this raven of its own name... Aure- Aurëwen pursed her lips. The last thing she wanted to seem was invasive, when she’d already requested to join in this plight. Should the raven withhold her own calling, Aurëwen was more than willing to learn of said name another time.

Adriel

Andraste

Adriel

Andraste

Adriel

Andraste

Adriel

Andraste