It is the time of mid-eve;
Andraste ruminates, as she has become so wont to do; treading the fraying halls of the vale's hinters as she now refrains from meandering on those frequent outings.
Recently returned with the seaflare from the spire of dome'd thunder; for now, there is no certain inkling of any single thing within her sunknived mind. It is a quiet eve, a listless eve; does not waver over the genres of nomads, gangling creatures, or those yet left behind.
For now, the Court is able to be at peace (famine besides).
The Vale was growing in familiarity as she wound between trees and craggy mountainsides -- she had little else to do aside patrol the soon-to-be borders of the court. Russet fur was dotted with splashes of mud, the rain of autumn turning the ground beneath her to mush. She sighed, giving dampened fur a shake before continuing her wandering 'round the outskirts of the Vale.
The sun began to sank and familiar pale fur caught her attention. Pawsteps hastened as she approached, assuming the sound of her feet against the ground and her scent drifting in the gentle breeze would be enough to announce her presence.
"How are you fairing today?" The words came quick from her maw as she slowed, standing a few tail-lengths from the wolf.
The flament, again—
"Well enough," the fée wisps, a smile tinged with a caution that is not altogether to discredit the pleasantness she finds of when in the company of Andromaque. Halfsight looks over the simmering hide; thankfully, though, there seems to only be the mud of past harvest and the beginning grime of all the chill to come.
Though she realigns her path to return to the vale and all its hinters, the stricken continues to issue forth other thoughts: "I would like to make ready an excursion into ze Taiga, soon, when ze premises are more surely secured," came the absent musing, wending further down a long-left preytrail. "If we are not able to bring such food home to us all, then, I propose that we should range out and find it, no?"
She trained her ears on the pale wolf until she spoke, nodding at the response as they left the cave behind and wandered further into the Vale. She was wary of whatever they had found, wanting it dead more than anything -- it would pose no threat to them if it no longer drew breath. Andromaque followed without a word, listening as Andraste began to speak again.
"I can help arrange something," the russet fae said quickly, hoping to make herself more useful. "The only prey I've been able to catch is rabbits, which is hardly enough to feed every mouth," Andromaque said, looking down at the path.
As her mind shifted through the deck of all sorts of cards which Courtfall's hand — er, paw? — might play at, the russet offered an arrangement, of sorts, in that such an excursion may be carried out. Her appreciation came in murmured tones and a humbled dip of skull; but with it all her chords rose once more, thought arriving unbidden.
"There is another matter," the stricken continues, sights drifting to nowhere in particular, "of ze upcoming ... ah, season, so to speak. I suppose that, when ze time comes, there will be families and those-to-be, seeking some manner of refuge from ze elements. It is well and good to accept them, and, yet," a lull; sights drifting, "I wonder of ... another rite. Should our capacity become too strenuous, I have had ze idea in my head that, perhaps, rather than pass on Courtfall's reign through traditional hiers ... what if we opened such an opportunity up to their whelps? No matter their family's position within ze pack?"
For now, Andraste spoke nothing of the accord; of laws of her land regarding such a season. Not now. Not yet.
She followed Andraste as they left the cave behind -- and she was glad to. Whatever dwelled within it was some beast that she cared not to encounter again. The featureless face and the way that it stalked through the woods still haunted her when she closed her eyes to rest.
Andromaque listened quietly to her, brow furrowing for a moment as she tried to process what season and -- ah! It hit her. Andromaque never thought of such things. She rarely concerned herself with the wants of men -- they were all too needy, too rough; she'd never been fond of them in the first place. And she'd never really thought of pups before -- maybe someday she would like some, but the whole ordeal seemed unpleasant.
"I think that's a good idea," she said, nodding in agreement. "Do you... have any heirs?" Andromaque asked cautiously, lowering her voice as the words slipped past her jaws.
Said idea seemed to be favorable with what-ever it was that Andromaque's mind aligned with; and the stricken could only hope that the rest of her of her followers would agree, as well; even better should they help her further amend such a rite so that it was better carved to that which Courtfall wished to flourish into. And then ... an inquiry, one which the fée had been expected, but merely had her words dance about all the same:
"Once upon a time," neither fib nor truth; greycloaked gaze sidled to the burnished female, even, steadied. Though that brood had now become part of the life of Aurëwen that she strode from, she would not discredit them in the sense that they had ne'er come from the womb, at the very, very least. Furthermore—
"Perhaps, however, I will choose those from ze families of others, this spring. Neverzeless, we must do all we can for any family who wishes for some manner of sanctuary ... I only hope that ze herds return before then." Wishful thinking, that.
It was not the type of answer that Andromaque was expecting -- once upon a time. So she did have children, Andromaque assumed, and they were either dead or might as well be. Estranged family, perhaps. She figured it was best not to press for answers no matter how badly she wanted them to be spoken.
"Do you have anyone in mind?" Andromaque found the words had left her maw before she had even thought them -- a simple question, but she didn't know if it was appropriate or not. Andromaque had no idea how close Andraste considered them to be. "And the herds will return, I'm sure -- if not, I can help organize hunting parties to go outside the Vale," she offered, trying to make herself useful.
Maybe someday in time would she concede, and give tell to a fair fee of her Courtiers (or all, really; who was to say?) how the story of her then-life had ended and come to close for the one of Andraste to open; put a new smattering of ink down on the pages. But for now, she only smiled soft at the awaying of Andromaque's interest, who instead bore yet another enquiry her way.
Oh—! "Perhaps," was merely what the silver trilled, looking away a tad too lightly, voice a bit too listless to be anything except more truthful than the last statement. That her womb might again swell with one's whelps, he that—! "What of yourself, then?" An elfin glint of grin. "Have you ever wished for it? A litter?" Love?
Andromaque looked to the woods, wondered of the beast that lingered there for a moment, mind wandering, before turning back to Andraste. Her eyes widened at the question -- her? Pups? She'd thought of it, but they wouldn't be born of love because she knew she would never love a man.
"I've... thought about it," she said hesitantly, not sure how to explain herself. "But I can't see myself with a male." The words came simply, she was not sure how else to put it other than that. "They're... ugh." Andromaque wasn't sure what else to say.
Laughter;
it fluted from the waxen throat low and light, perhaps for one of the first and few times in all these long and strenuous weeks, for well did she understand such frustrations when it came to the other sex. Frustration, yes — and her own brother had been of the sort of mold that Andromaque seemed to be carved from, no? Then:
"Of course," grinning further, farther, "I will be very attentive of who it is that enters our realm, especially where it concerns you." She has never done such an act, she thinks; and altogether supposes it is not that different from the usual track-and-hunt ... But, overall, she gives a humbled nod of her head to that which Andromaque has provided. "Let us set an excursion to ze Taiga, within a fortnight or so. We must see who might be most suitable in accompanying you."
She laughed alongside the pale wolf, unsure what else to do. But she seemed to understand and Andromaque was glad for that. "Thank you," she said, unsure what else to say. Andromaque fell silent until Andraste spoke again, ears perking up.
"I would be glad to," Andromaque said. Anything to help the Court. She had dedicated herself to Andraste and the rest of the Courtlings whole-heartedly. She had not fully dedicated herself so something like this before in her life, but she felt like the Court was family to her. "Who do you think would be suitable?" she asked.
"Dagwood," the words leaping from between lips without near any thought. The merled yearling was tenacious, courageous; she had seen percisely what stuff he had been made of when last they had winged out of eagles, once upon a time. "And Gracious, and Tundra, I think." One patient, another fierce — and with some thought of another more, five should certainly be enough for an outing. "There are many plains, many valleys ... though, I am not as familiar with ze Taiga as I once was, truly."
Andromaque took note of the names, which were unfamiliar to her but she was sure at some point she would learn them. The she-wolf had never ventured into the Taiga either, but...
"I'll go myself to scout them first," she said, glancing around them -- at the woods, the underbrush, the canopy of trees overhead. "That way I'll be able to lead the way. It shouldn't take more than a few days," she continued, already planning the route. She knew the vague direction, and her scouting skills would come in handy for the excursion.
At once she wished to express her concern for such a venture; and until this very moment not once had she thought of the position she had placed others in when-ever she herself had ranged about the wilds as she liked; humbling; sobering. Her worry still remained, and yet she could only again nod all the same. "That is wise, yes, and up until now she did jot have knowledge of another who did know the Taiga. "Ze quakings of ze earth have ceased, I believe. But you have my faith all the same — may you go lightly, and return safe to us."
Herds or no.
She remembered the earthquake. "I hope that there are more herds," she mused quietly. "I've gotten tired of eating just rabbits." Her tail swished behind her as she spoke. Andromaque thought again to the earthquake, of coyotes and wolves crumpled underfoot as herds fled from the valley. Russet fae looked to the woods again, studying the trees as branches swayed in autumn breeze. "Do you think the beast will be back?" she asked absently, still wholly concerned with the monster that they had uncovered.
Rabbits — oh, yes, she would love to move on from the scattering things, too; a quirk of pale humor at shorn mouth at several remembered incidents; harrowing, then, as she looked back upon them now. But then Andromaque questions of the behemoth, and the stricken follows her wondering gaze. "I should hope not. Ze more who run amongst us, the surer that it will not return for many seasons."
Enough, now, of what beings went bump in the night— "Come," she murmurs, canting her marred head in invitation. "Let us see how much interest for this excursion we might garner."
Andromaque listened to the pale wolf speak of the beast and felt at ease for a moment. Of course it would be scared to venture where most of the Court resided -- but she also worried that it might go brave and venture close regardless of how strong in numbers the Court was.
The russet wolf nodded and followed quickly, hoping that the excursion to the Tundra would prove fruitful.