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+--- Thread: Cassiopeia's View Jibbering, howling and chants in long dead languages (/showthread.php?tid=37360)
Jibbering, howling and chants in long dead languages - Dragomir - November 01, 2019
Dragomir's treks outside of Moonspear's territory continued. They were always relatively short voyages and he never left without informing @Hydra, @Dirge or @Arcturus that he was leaving. He was well aware that departing the mountain meant potentially opening himself up to attack should Sanguinus and his cohorts be lurking nearby, but he couldn't possibly sit at home while his sister was missing. What if they'd taken her? He had to search, but he had to do so safely, and that meant making sure someone knew where he was.
So today, after telling his leaders which direction he would be travelling, Dragomir once more left his pack's claim and headed south along the mountain range. A few short weeks ago, such a venture would have been impossible, but now his legs were strong and his resolve was moreso. Still his hip seized when he stepped and put a hitch in his smooth gait, but observant eyes would notice it was becoming less and less. Soon it might be gone entirely, save for when the damp sunk into his bones.
A large, flat plateau gave Dragomir a magnificent view of all the wilds that sprawled out beneath Moonspear's shadow. Far, far to the north, he could even see the glimmer of the sea. Even though the world was void of life and destruction and autumn both had claimed much of its greenery, there was something beautiful about it from up here. He took a moment to enjoy the view for what it was, then sucked in a deep breath and called out, as loudly as he could,
Isilmë!
NANOWRIMO: 266
Tags are just for reference!
RE: Jibbering, howling and chants in long dead languages - Dacio - November 02, 2019
Soon, he and @Praimfaya would seek the wolves of Easthollow. Although Dacio himself was loathe to leave Roangeda's turf behind to seek further knowledge of Vercingetorix' death, he had made a vow to his young Worlida. As stubborn and headstrong as her mother before her, she was not the type to sit idly by whilst murderers roamed their wilds - she would carry on alone even if he were to suggest she stay put. And Dacio, loyal to his core, knew he would do everything in his power to protect her even If it meant going against the teachings of his own kind.
He would go, albeit reluctantly. But they would need to make tracks sooner rather than later if they wanted to avoid Winter's first snowstorms.
The sterling Klikalida ventured beyond the fen as hunger pained his empty belly, driving him into the mountains with the hope that luck would be on his side. He moved quietly on the sure-footed paws of a wolf well practiced on rugged terrain, and he found himself once more thankful for the cliffs on which he'd been raised.
Dacio found no sign of mountain goat, not even a sniff of the big cats that were said to feed on them. The lands were made barren not only by the quaking earth but by the transition of Summertime to cold season and after several hours of fruitless roaming, made to trail along a different route to seek the flatlands again.
A voice drew his charcoal ears forward, and he padded toward the source with a grumble of annoyance; if any potential prey had been lurking there, they were sure to be sent running by this hollering. What Dacio found was a boy around Praimfaya's age who bore an obsidian pelt and, curiously, a pale nose at the end of his snout. "Hei," he greeted plainly as he eyed the juvenile with some suspicion, wondering if he might be a child of the raven Queen and her mate who'd emerged from the lake's mists.
RE: Jibbering, howling and chants in long dead languages - Dragomir - November 02, 2019
Dragomir listened to the echoing of his voice, but ultimately there was no response. His shoulders visibly sagged and he prepared to range further, but then a glimpse of silver made his heart leap with hope. Had she heard him? Why hadn't she called out?
Then he took stock of the rest of the approaching wolf's appearance, and realized with a heavy dose of disappointment that it wasn't Isilmë at all. His extremities were all dunked in a darker shade of grey and the silver, on closer inspection, wasn't light enough to be his sibling's near-white coat. Not to mention he was a male. Dragomir was prepared to simply pass the man by when Dacio spoke, and imagine his surprise when it was in his father's tongue.
He faltered with one paw suspended in the air and frowned at Dacio. It could be a trick. What were the odds this man was one of Blackhead's co-conspirators who had picked up a few words from Vercingetorix when he was in Rusalka? But if that was the case, he was still within howling distance of Moonspear and his leaders knew he was venturing out this way, so in that sense, help would come sooner than later if he was attacked. Feeling similarly suspicious of Dacio, whom Dragomir had heard nothing about in his life, the boy responded with a hesitant,
hei.
He wanted to ask about Isilmë, but it was more important to know if Dacio was someone he should be running from first. So he asked, in clear Trigedasleng,
friend or foe?Surely Vercingetorix's enemies wouldn't know more than a word or two of their language.
NANOWRIMO: 275
RE: Jibbering, howling and chants in long dead languages - Dacio - November 02, 2019
He was quick to note disappointment that tugged the corners of the boy's mouth downward as he looked his way, the obvious defeat in the sag of his shoulders. Dacio blinked down at him, quietly judging as he made to pass by, before familiarity brought him to an abrupt halt.
His initial response was hesitant, and surprise brought a shine to the Klikalida's pastel gaze to hear this young stranger carry on in his mother tongue. Something stirred within his chest then, the excited skip of a heartbeat, and his expression softened to one of sheer relief.
This could only be Vercingetorix' cub, of that he was suddenly so sure.
His tail stirred then, a gentle assurance that he meant no harm. "A friend," he said with a soft edge to his words to accompany the hint of a smile that crossed his lips. It soon faded from his muzzle, replaced by a furrowing of concern in his brow. What the hell was he doing out in the open without a guard, with rogues on the prowl? "You must be Dragomir," Roangeda's sterling leader continued. He didn't bother to share his knowledge of those who hunted for the boy's pallid littermate, as he recalled how the Moonspear wolves shared with him how it was the children who first discovered their sire's body. Instead, he turned attention toward making mention of his own priority: "Praimfaya frets for you and your sister."
RE: Jibbering, howling and chants in long dead languages - Dragomir - November 02, 2019
There was a part of Dragomir that didn't want to believe Dacio when he said he was a friend—how easy it would be to trick the young and foolish with such an assurance! But the greyscale wolf confirmed it moments later by speaking his name, which he could only have known, Dragomir thought, if he was dear to Vercingetorix or some other who knew of his family. Coupled with speaking smooth, fluent Trigedasleng, Dacio was clearly one of his father's old kru.
The boy's tense posture relaxed immediately and his own tail rose into a relieved wag. How long had it been since he met someone and could trust them right away? Too long!
Sha,he confirmed. He didn't bother to ask how Dacio knew it; Dragomir had already drawn his own conclusions.
You are a friend of hers? I haven't seen Praimfaya in eons,Dragomir revealed, brows twitching almost imperceptibly toward a frown. He wasn't aware of Isilmë's connection with the younger wolf. He had only known her when she was a baby, before Aurëwen took them from the mountains. A lifetime ago when measured against what he'd been through since; he regretted that he hadn't thought about her in all that time.
Why does she fret about us?He wasn't oblivious to the fact that his captor and his father's old enemy were out there, searching, even though he might come across that way by asking this. The question wasn't what there was to fret about. It was how Praimfaya knew that she needed to fret at all, or even why she cared.
As if to confirm for Dacio that any worry for them was indeed founded, Dragomir fretfully announced,
my sister is missing. I am looking for her.
NANOWRIMO: 291
RE: Jibbering, howling and chants in long dead languages - Dacio - November 02, 2019
Crappy phone post, sorry!
It was always a joy to find a wolf with whom he could converse with in his native language, though his delight was overlooked on this particular occasion. Dacio, despite all the bitterness he harboured for Vercingetorix having abandoned their kru, could not find it in him to wish a similar fate to befall his offspring. His concern for Dragomir and Isilmë, children he had not known at all, had been clear in his own desire to be sure of their safety.
He nodded his head in response to Dragomir's curiosities regarding the friendship he shared with Praimfaya. "The black-headed witch believed her to be Vercingetorix' daughter some weeks ago," he offered of Praimfaya, of her very real worry over the cubs who she considered friends. Dacio shifted his weight then, daring to step a few strides closer on tentative paws. He inhaled deep the scent of him, able to pair it with those of Hydra and her wolves from the mist. Had Moonspear been hiding the boy and his littermate, failing to share their location despite how his young Worlida ached to know?
He twitched a whisker, acknowledging the beginnings of inner frustration before he reminded himself of the true threat out there. To shield Verx' son and daughter was necessary, even from those dear to them. If such valuable information were to be dangled before the snout of their common enemy, it could be catastrophic. He probably would've done likewise, should he have found himself in their position.
More troubling, Dragomir went on to share that his sibling had gone missing. Dacio lifted his tall ears briefly before splaying them backward, shocked to hear such news despite an ongoing hunt for the coywolf who sought her. He frowned deeply, wondering how she would have managed to vanish from the mountain pack that vowed to protect her.
"That is worrying," he observed, considering how Blackhead continued to lurk. "Is there any reason why she might go off on her own?" Dacio wanted to belive that Moonspear hadn't let Caiaphas venture close enough to snatch her away, but he could not deny the suspicion was there. He found it so difficult to trust those not of his kind in these recent days.
RE: Jibbering, howling and chants in long dead languages - Dragomir - November 03, 2019
The black-headed witch. The beginnings of a growl twisted Dragomir's lips, not aimed at Dacio but at the black-faced cur that kept cropping up in all these scenarios. Dragomir had been captured and tormented by a wolf he believed to be a friend of his mother, but did Blackhead have something to do with that at the time as well? It seemed likely. She seemed to have her claws in everything, and everything came back to her. His family left Drageda because of her. Vercingetorix thought to make a home by the sea for them but Caiaphas had somehow ruined that, too. He didn't know the details of that, though.
Caiaphas was part of the reason they left Kaistleoki—Vercingetorix said she was lurking near the riverlands. Hydra said she was lurking in the foothills in the company of the wolf who had captured him and thrown him from the mountain. How was it possible that Blackhead was everywhere all at once? Dacio had the right of it: she was some kind of witch.
Did she attack Praimfaya?was the first thing Dragomir had to ask, because how could it be a coincidence that everywhere he and his little family went, they followed? If Blackhead mistook Praimfaya for Isilmë, then she must be searching for his sister. Cold dread spilled into his stomach at the thought that Isilmë wasn't missing, but had been deliberately taken. Hydra wouldn't let that happen, he fervently told himself, but the fear would be evident in both his scent and his fallen face.
I don't know why she would leave,he said, dejected.
She's the only one who never did. Maybe she went looking for our mom?He didn't know why Isilmë would do that, but maybe his sister was having an even harder time coming to terms with being abandoned than he was; maybe she yearned for Aurëwen where he only yearned for her to disappear entirely.
Moonspear has been watching the area around home, Blackhead was lurking around but it sounds like someone from an ally pack hurt her. I don't know where they are now.But if there was a chance they might have his sister ...
Oh, god, he wasn't ready to fight them yet.
NANOWRIMO: 373
RE: Jibbering, howling and chants in long dead languages - Dacio - November 03, 2019
"She did not," the ashen Klikalida said of Praimfaya, an assurance to the dark juvenile that she was safe. Dacio kept his own grim thoughts to himself: he knew exactly what Blackhead could've done to the young commander-in-training had he not happened to intervene when he did.
Fortunately, she was safe under his watch. Their kru had proven fit for purpose in ensuring that no harm would come to Praimfaya. It seemed Isilmë, on the other hand, had managed to slip free from Moonspear's guard of her own doing, for he doubted the old sea crone would've been able to penetrate the pack's forces to capture her. She was bold, but she wasn't stupid.
Dacio frowned, thoughtful as he lifted his head to look out over the valley below as he contemplated where a hunted child might hide. Attention was swift to return to Dragomir, however, as he brought forth another snippet of valuable information that Hydra had refrained from sharing. "Your mother is also missing?" Dacio assumed, puzzled. Only recently had he been told Aure and the cubs were safe, yet now she and her daughter had vanished?
RE: Jibbering, howling and chants in long dead languages - Dragomir - November 03, 2019
The boy nodded. Truly, he hadn't seen Praimfaya in so long that it was hard to say he felt relieved; he was more impassive than anything. He didn't subscribe to the notion of kru the way that Praimfaya and Dacio did, but she was still family in some sense of the word. He cared somewhere deep inside that she was okay, but he cared more about what this information meant for his sister. Blackhead had not attacked Praimfaya. Maybe she wouldn't immediately attack Isilmë either. His sister had always been a more suspicious beast than him, and unlikely to give away her identity easily to a stranger. She knew of Blackhead as well.
Dacio's next question made Dragomir cringe. Various emotions played across his face in the span of a second or two, most of them leaning toward anguish.
She is not missing,he said on the tailing end of a soft growl.
She left us. Just left one day, said she was going on a scouting trip to Moonspear, got struck by lightning or something and then decided she was just never going to come home.Dacio would probably be able to tell by the edge in the boy's tone just how he felt about that.
I didn't think Isi would look for her, but it's the only reason that makes sense to me.Licking his chops, the boy too looked past Dacio to the valley below, then asked,
Will you keep an eye out for her? She's light silver, like ... like our mom, but her legs and tail tip are a bit darker.Then, because he didn't want to selfishly make this all about him and his sister, he asked,
How is Praimfaya? Are she and her mom still with Diaspora? Are you with Diaspora as well?
Diaspora was, he thought, a good pack for the remnant Drakru in the wilds, not that he knew anything about their lifestyle.
NANOWRIMO: 322