praimfaya hunts for a suitable den to shelter in. though she isn't all too keen on staying underground for any prolonged amount of time for she knows the earth can suffocate and crush the life out of you just as quick as a blink of an eye. still, it seems ...practical; and establishing a denning site — even if she slept outside of it — will help her to acclimate. she uses the dwindling light of sunset to illuminate her hunt; mercurial, frostbound gaze studious and nose to the ground as she sniffs out a rabbit warren — too much work, she decides — to an abandoned den of some sort, the entrance of which was full of too many gnarled roots. she pauses and eyes it wearily, suspecting that even if she managed to wiggle herself into it she would struggle to get herself out. still, she pushes her muzzle against it, teeth gripping one of the roots to test how thick and strong they held. they resisted and she gives up with a sigh of resignation; resolving herself to keep looking.
With Mahler minding the cubs, Nyx was grateful for an opportunity to roam. How long had it been since she last hunted for herself? How long since she left her hollow without the sole purpose of quenching thirst or relieving her bladder? Fuck, it felt like forever.
Ciri in particular showed promise of growing into a tiny hell-hound, having been plagued by incoming baby teeth that she felt the need to use during nursing. Worst of all, both she and her sister had managed to find their feet! They stumbled a lot and prodded along at a snail's pace, but it surely would not be long until they'd be running off whenever she turned her head.
So as much as she loved her infant daughters, Nyx was glad for an opportunity to be by herself. It didn't last long, however, as she spotted movement between sparse foliage. Squinting against the sharp evening sunlight, she could make out a lean figure and a pale pelt - Takiyok?
Dread settled in the pit of her gut, but as the unknown wolfess carried on she could see from across short distance that she was not Mahler's former second. Curious, the tawny Ostrega ventured closer and chuffed a greeting, unsure what reaction would come.
the problem, praimfaya quickly realizes as she turns her nose up at den opportunity after den opportunity, is not that she's picky. it's that ...she isn't sure what she's looking for. she doesn't know what she wants, not really. which seems to be quite the reoccurring theme for her life as of late. she noses around a fallen, hallowed out log but looks like it would be big enough and comfortable and provide just enough shelter from the elements. predictably, she turns her nose up at it, too.
her relentless and unsatisfactory pursuit of prime real estate pauses as a chuff sounds from somewhere behind her; nearby. her steps falter to a stop and she peers over her scarred left shoulder at the golden draped aphrodite. initial look was merely cursory; but as praimfaya turns to face the older woman her frostbound gaze studies her with unabashed earnest.
hei —
praimfaya almost chokes on the world, tossed about as her standard greeting for so long without thought. llo.
she finishes lamely. hello.
she tries again with a soft, sheepish clear of her throat. i'm praimfaya.
she introduces herself, unsure if she's met the female before or not.
Cameo. Feel free to ignore.
All its searching had turned up nothing; the subject had disappeared from here and from the surrounding areas. This was a shame; there had been such promise...
Now it was returned to the land foretold, crouching statue-still in the middle branches of a scraggly tree. The two shewolves were far enough away that the bird would be unable to hear what they might say to each other, but the great black shadow watched them intently, regardless.
Particularly, its atramentous eyes followed the movements of the paler, younger creature. Something solemn and dissatisfied swam deep in those two black, depthless pools — something solemn and dissatisfied and, yet, clearly intrigued.
She observed quietly, as the ghostly yearling took note of her presence. Nyx moved carefully to further close the distance between them, a certain hesitation in her stride as paranoia flared very suddenly to life within her: could this be an ally of Wylla, perhaps? The agouti Ostrega's life had been uninterrupted by the younger she-wolf since her arrival to Diaspora, but she felt it foolish to allow herself be lulled into this false sense of security.
A greeting came, and she wanted to believe it ggenuine. Nyx mustered a thin smile as she paused nearby, peppered tail swinging lazily between beige hocks. "I'm Nyx," she returned, and twitched a whisker curiously as her yellow gaze found the unusual dark shading beneath a pair of frosted eyes. "Are you new here?"
nyx, the blonde woman introduces herself as. a small dip of praimfaya's head is given in a gesture that she means to communicate 'nice to meet you'. the inquiry about her newness in sagtannet is one that praimfaya has come to expect. it is one that she is asked most often, after all. oddly, she doesn't mind answering it. kind of,
she hedges, as if weighing her words. sometimes she wonders if it was easier just to say 'yes' and let it at that. i was apart of diaspora a long time ago.
she admits, but wonders ( as she will in the future ) if making the distinction made it seem like she saw 'diaspora' and 'courtfall' as separate entities when in reality they were sagtannet. for now, she assumes most of the wolves she meets were from one or the other rather than assuming they were loners that joined up after the merger — an assumption she waits to bite her in the butt one day.
It'd been a long time since Nyx had heard the name of Diaspora from the maw of another who wasn't Mahler, and her raven-tipped lobes sprung forward in surprise. Curious, she twitched a whisker and let her yellow eyes wander over Praimfaya's physique. The girl was young, likely a child when she'd left. Nyx frowned thoughtfully, seeing no real resemblance in her to the pack-mates she recalled. A lost daughter of Stigmata and Takiyok, perhaps?
Her name was an unusual one, and sounded somewhat familiar. Ingram had had a daughter in Diaspora, but he and Blodreina could not have produced a cub with a pelage so pallid, surely. Nyx felt the sting on remembering her late comrades, but cast thoughts of them aside for fear of sinking deeper into the sorrow that accompanied them.
"I followed Mahler here from Diaspora," she offered the hint of a smile. "What made you decide to come back?" Nyx asked, curious rather than judgemental.
praimfaya, as unfortunate as the truth was, could not claim that she directly remembered the gold dappled woman from her time in diaspora. mostly, she remembered her once playmates and to a certain degree mahler, though she'd been embarrassed by her inability to remember his name. i don't remember you,
praimfaya admits with a sheepish and apologetic flutter of her ears back towards her skull. i'm sorry.
she breathes, giving voice to it.
my dad and i left rather quickly after my mother's death.
or rather, praimfaya fled and ingram followed after. would he have, if she hadn't? she didn't know ...would never know. i'm not sure. the hope that i might find who i am, maybe.
without the heavy and crushing weight of the commander is what she leaves off.
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"That's alright," she answered with a soft chuckle, an almost motherly edge to her tone as she carried on, "no need for apologies. I don't remember you, either." Nyx' time at Diaspora had been spent mostly in the background. She had never properly acquainted herself or forged any lasting bonds with her pack-mates.
Nyx could recall several if them: how she'd observed Takiyok, Ketzia and their children from afar and with uncertainty. Those litters had shared a father in Stigmata, and remembered the bitterness that one mother seemed to harbour for the other. She took a moment to compare that situation to the one she had found herself in now with Wylla and Mahler and, while Nyx did care for the gargoyle and was willing to let him play his part in the rearing of their offspring, she did feel any need to compete for him where the coastal she-wolf might.
Pieces of the puzzle clicked together when Praimfaya elaborated more on her departure from the mountains, and her expression softened with sympathy. "Oh," the lioness murmured to herself before seeking the girl's sharp features again, "you are Ingram's girl?"
praimfaya offers nyx a soft smile that curls genuinely at the edges of her lips; warm. within, she feels relief that nyx does not hold her lack of remembrance against her ...in the same way that praimfaya doesn't hold it against nyx. she was small and spent much time glued against blodreina's side, learning all she could from her draconian mother. valuable and hard lessons that have gotten her through what has been the worst of times.
yes,
praimfaya breathes in reply, a wave of ache of loss washing over her. her smile turns sorrowful then before curiosity overtakes the slip. did you know my father?
she inquires, assuming that she probably did ...it was, to her, a fair enough question. after all, she generally assumed that adults were more social than young children and nyx said herself that she, too, has been apart of diaspora.
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Within her, there was a glimmer of hope. Her heart skipped an excited beat as Praimfaya confirmed that she was, indeed, a child of Ingram and Blodreina. Her peppered tail have a satisfied sway, though it stilled when a question came her way - and the way in which it was worded chilled her to the core.
She simply nodded in response, unable to pretend that she'd misheard. Hawkish eyes narrowed a little in thought as she considered the very real possibility of her friend's death, and her belly flopped uncomfortably. "He..." Nyx blinked, felt her mouth dry, and swallowed the lump that began to swell in her throat, "He didn't come back with you?"
no,
praimfaya admits with solemn tones. not knowing what or who had killed ingram left a lot of unrest in praimfaya ...answers she will never find; but she tries to take comfort from the fact that he was at peace, resting with her mother in ...whatever came after. he was killed at my mother's grave.
if the boulder that brought about blodreina's untimely death could be considered a grave. i don't know by who or what —
praimfaya draws in a ragged breath. but i try to take comfort in the fact that he's reunited with her.
a small comfort though that may be. essentially, praimfaya was an orphan ...though if orphan can be considered of a wolf of her age she isn't sure.
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