Wolf RPG - night is crawling through my eyes

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Sobriety; splendour.

That is how she emerged from the tenebrosity of the thickets to open air - the space between herself, and this transpicious line. Borders, and behind, a kingdom of other. She had woven with couth finesse in her movements, from betwixt the gloom, shuddered into the gap between worlds with eidolon fluency.

Atolas, moaned the wind, warped in distant yearning--

--Atolas!

Patience, she uttered to herself, before youthful lips raised to the sky in summoning song, countenance refined in seraphic solemnity.

bruh your post is straight up poetry

Another song sung, a summoning to those that called the plateau home. Aningan answered with a short call of his own, assuring the stranger she was heard—that someone was coming. And when he arrived before her, fur messed by the winds, he stood tall; his demeanour was amicable overall, posture relaxed and a welcoming smile gracing his lips.

“Salutitsinik,” he greeted after a moment of pause. “What brought you here?” Better, he thought; gradually, he was improving with how he spoke to strangers—but it remained a slow process.

ahh, thank youuu <3

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"Salutitsinik."

Foreign words, foreign man - frosted lashes unfurled to drape curtains of perspicacity over he; whom she observed with a stationary glance to be reposeful in posture, yet imposing of figure. Like a bear of ice, he ascended from blanketed ground, but warmth painted blackened lips, and his greeting was cleansed of demand. Yes, this would do.

"Hola," her mother's tongue - drawled from a silvery maw; modulated, but light, as though born of some sibylline concoction - steel and air, hardened nymph. "A place to stay," she uttered, though her composure shifted to accompany a giving of respect; to him, she was naught but a stranger at the fringes of home, and in his clutches he possessed every right to turn her fate. "I will pull my weight."

Like he, she spoke a word of unfamiliar origins; he wondered what it might mean, exactly, only to write it off as a greeting—this assumption was satisfying enough. There was a moment during which he could not help but wonder if she, like the trio of sisters before her, may struggle with the common tongue—but it took but a few more words exiting her mouth for him to realise that this likely would not be the case.

“A place to stay for the winter or longer?” he asked, curious. Whilst Aningan was not the type to remain somewhere for a single season, he was interested to discover whether or not the same mindset was shared; whether willing to pull her weight or not, the male felt unsettled by the idea of her—or anyone’s, really—stay being only temporary.

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A coin he handed to open palms - back and forth she twirled it, caught in a picture of contemplation. Ribbons of winter had yet to unfetter from the teekon's hills, lands draped in curtains of riveted frost, and yet... soon, release. It would come. And so drizzled her answer, from ice-born lips, "Longer," but vague.

She would await his discerning.

Not for the winter alone but a greater length of time; an answer he sought, the alternative souring his thoughts. Slowly, he looked her over, assessing her—the first assessment to be given, the product of learning. She appeared capable, healthy and uninjured. Although granted long limbs, her body overall was not large; a svelte creature, appearance making him wonder just how fast she might run—a hunter? Perhaps she might be, perhaps she may have answers to assist him.

“What’s your name?” he asked next. “Mine is Aningan.” How well do you hunt? he wanted to ask, only to bite his tongue and prevent the words from escaping. Anyone could give any answer, he was starting to realise. Only time and demonstrations would reveal the truth.

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Names - titles bestowed upon birth, granted in life or summoned by the soul itself; there was not one to her crown, but two, perhaps three. Her eyes were light as she looked upon the winter bear; diaphanous, gossamer in their intricacy, shrouded in anchored cloak. Enigma. Again the coin flipped, but to choose a side? No, she was enthralled, compelled to offer him choice.

For how could one split a soul in two?

"Niebla. Atolas. You choose." A glitter of ambiguitity danced ribbons in the sylph's gaze. "Pleasure to meet you, Aningan."

Two names were given, a decision to be made. Curious and curioser yet, the first met to offer a choice between names. “A pleasure to meet you, too, Atolas,” he returned, the choice set; there was something about the name that he felt drawn to, feeling it to be more appealing than the former—or perhaps his choice was made by the simple, internal flipping of a coin.

“Will you try and join our family here?” he asked next, curious glimmer smothered by a touch of solemnity. “Can you support those here if I let you join?” Whether it be in hunts or something more—something troubling, the care of a wolf fallen ill, or uncharted matters. Would she stand by the pack, the family, to the best of her abilities?

When the other could not—would not?—answer, Aningan had little more options than to bid her farewell. Perhaps she may return someday, then with the ability to honour his wish. Until then, he stared after her as she took her leave.