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+--- Thread: Sawtooth Spire the art of war is of vital (/showthread.php?tid=39412)
the art of war is of vital - RIP Wintersbane - February 05, 2020
the mid-afternoon skies are as gloomy as they'd been all day: painted grey with the heavy snowfall that has been accumulating since early morning. a glimpse is given skyward, though wintersbane turns his attention back to his path; the borders of their spire. against the grey backdrop of the sky the peaks look even more isolated and terrible — he loves it. for the first time in a long time, he's felt like he's home in a very different way than how andraste had made him feel like courtfall was home. these rocks like protruding titan teeth is the very terrain he's been made for. it speaks to everything tundrian within him.
despite the heavy snowfall, wintersbane doesn't let it hinder his patrol. he pushes on, letting it accumulate upon his back without any care. after a while the snowfall begins to slow and he hits a small lull in the weather as the opaque clouds break and the sun shines thru defiantly. he lifts his leg to urinate on a scent marking before continuing forth, pausing only then to shake the layering snow from his back before continuing on, head slightly bowing towards the earth to inspect the fresh border markers.
RE: the art of war is of vital - Gracious - February 07, 2020
She had seen others, not as many as she wanted to see, but enough to consider herself more mixed with the Diaspora part of Sagtannet. Gracious liked snowy weather, but often found herself to be incredibly camoflagued when it got deep. Sometimes they saw her, sometimes they didn't. Usually if the wind was right they could at least smell her or feel her eyes on their figure.
The scent of someone familiar filled her nose and brought Gracious onto her feet and walking through teh path of deep snow. With her heavier figure, she slipped at times and would be stuck trudging through since snow couldn't always support her. Her legs were completely white from her snowy travel, despire her body being mainly covered and white fur. Before her, after traveling and feeling the sun poke through the clouds and warm up her up. She didn't enjoy the moment by herself, however, as the sight of someone large like her came into view.
Politely, she chuffed in greeting, hoping she didn't find herself too hidden against the light background.
RE: the art of war is of vital - RIP Wintersbane - February 07, 2020
the tundrain falls victim to an absentminded lull the comforting routine brings with it. would he have scented anything unusual upon the borders, he would've been immediately more aware but as he does not it is too easy to fall into familiarity and allow his mind to wander. he doesn't think about anything in particular now as he moves at a leisurely pace at sagtannet's borders. the lull is broken only by the sound of a polite chuff sounding from somewhere nearby — within the borders, he notes.
a scan of glacial gaze is given; nearly missing her at first. too easily she blends into the snow but he does see her then and offers her an amiable wag of his tail and an inclination of his head in invitation to join him if she wishes. ❝hello,❞ the tundrian warlord greets her, recognizing her from courtfall though they were never officially introduced.
still, despite that, she chose to trust and follow him; for that wintersbane is more grateful than he can put into words. ❝we've never been properly introduced. i'm wintersbane, though andraste called me melkor.❞ the tundrian offers her with a soft smile, realizing that many of courtfall's number would recognize him as 'melkor' before 'wintersbane' ( except those from blackfeather woods ).
RE: the art of war is of vital - Gracious - February 10, 2020
He saw her, what good eyes and a good nose he had to have. Gracious stepped forward, closer to him when he let her know that her presence was known to him. A kind greeting and an exchange of names. she recogfnized his face. Andraste had a strong liking to him, she wondered how he faired without the moon maiden at his side.
"Andraste was fond of you," she said gently, eyes shifting to her paws for a slight moment, "it is nice to meet you, officially, Wintersbane. I am Gracious."
She couldn't deny the man was quite atttractive in front of her, it was no wonder Andraste took a strong liking to him. However, Gracious knew looks could only go so far, the ghost had seen something else in him to make her like him more. She wondered about those qualities. Gracious had learned to adore the girl as well and often thought of her as an angel of some sort for saving her from the battered coast line.
"The Diaspora wolves have seemingly joined us with open arms, do you hear anything about us members of the court from their lips?" She was never fond of rumors or lies being told, and couldn't deny she wondered what the other pack had thought of the Court. It was a strange set up, stranger in comparison to what the normal pack life is like. She liked most of the wolves she met already, but wondered if Melkor had heard something from the 2 other leaders.
RE: the art of war is of vital - RIP Wintersbane - February 13, 2020
❝and i her,❞ wintersbane replies in a soft rumble, like thunder just before the storm; the tundrian has by and far come to realize that not all flames were meant to last. no one could've predicted the fey queen's untimely death but it befell her all the same ...and wintersbane, used to carrying on despite the death of a woman he loved, knows that life will and does continue. ❝alas, not all things are meant to last.❞ words give voice to his thought, to his unfortunate experience in this particular area.
❝a pleasure, gracious.❞ wintersbane returns the exchange of names with a gentlemanly dip of his head. there are few of courtfall he had yet to make official acquaintance with, the fault of which lay strictly with himself. having been so consumed with andraste — only to feel the burn of her supernova when she died — he now feels guilt for not striving to know the wolves that would follow him.
❝i doubt they would speak ill of us after agreeing to the merger. or at all, really,❞ wintersbane says flatly, scarred brow twitching. ❝we were allies before. an alliance that andraste struck but that has obviously survived her.❞ still, the fact that wintersbane has, thus far, been able to get along with both mahler and wylla — and in fact, respects them — is miracle. at least from the leader point, the merger appears to have gone seamlessly and for a better mixture the tundrian couldn't have asked for.
RE: the art of war is of vital - Gracious - February 15, 2020
gracious could feel her heart beat at peace, knowing that andraste's love for melkor was returned fully. although she was gone, love was something that hardly ever left an animal's heart -- it was like a faint memory, tickling at the heart strings and leading wolves to trip over their own paws. "i am glad you gave her happiness, though, her smile held warmth to it." Reminiscing of the past was not always a good thing, sometimes it clouded judgement and thoughts of the future. Yet, gracious could not help herself. remembering let her move on from her grief.
"allies," she started off, "i hope we can change the word to family some day. one pack, one family, one goal." Cohesiveness was important to gracious, it didn't mean culling those different necessarily but rather letting the group become well-mixed and even within itself.
"i don't think the courtfall members have given you enough credit, forgive us," she said, ears fell back against her skull for a little, "you have given us somewhere new to live, with new members to learn about and appreciate. you saved us from disbanding. thank you." Merging was not easy for several reasons, there were so many hairs that could've been misplaced and problems that could have occurred. yet the seamless grouping of the two has given off nothing but kind interactions so far.
RE: the art of war is of vital - RIP Wintersbane - February 15, 2020
speaking of andraste makes his wedmarks twinge along his ribcage: healed, but pink and rugged with fresh scar tissue. he does not wish his thoughts to linger in her grave anymore than he wishes for them to linger in relmyna's. he has loved and he has lost — more than once. by this point, he is a champion of looking forward and despite himself, holding out hope that love is not meant to always be so tragic for him.
❝we are one pack. sagtannet,❞ he corrects her with a tug of his lips mischievously. wintersbane hadn't been sure how mahler would react to him, let alone the offer of a merger — if andraste told him of her and the gargoyle's torrid affair he hadn't paid enough attention to put two and two together — but regardless, mahler and andraste was laid to rest and in the past with the fey queen ...just as the tundrian and her were. there was no point in holding any animosity for what will never be again. lingering had never been wintersbane's style.
wintersbane's ears perk slightly, surprise flitting across his scarred facial features as she asks for forgiveness and states that courtfall members hadn't given him enough credit. ❝i don't blame the ones that left any more than i blame those that had or have doubts. i am the man that andraste brought home and rose to leadership without consultation.❞ would wintersbane's be in their footsteps he, too, would've had serious doubts ...he was known to be judging of his leaders when in a subordinate position and unafraid to let the gavel fall with all of his harsh and unfiltered opinions. ❝i would feel the same.❞ thus, he can hardly be judge and jury.
❝i only did that i thought was best with the unexpectedness of it all. i couldn't be sure it was the right call. but ...all things considered, i think that sagtannet is the best thing to come out of the tragedy and that together we are much stronger than we were as diaspora and courtfall.❞ and with the promise of cubs in the spring ...the outlook was brighter yet.
RE: the art of war is of vital - Gracious - February 17, 2020
true, they were here, here now and here togehter as sagtannet. the name was new on her tongue, yet it still flowed clearly through her head. it held purporse, it held value, it held meaning. for now, that was all what gracious needed in her family's name.
"yes, we are much stronger together." a simple phrase with powerful meaning. power meant strength in numbers, and sagtannet was full to the brim with wolves who proved themselves to be worthy of calling this mountain their home. she held little thought during the move, she had addressed her doubt but knew doubt hardly got her places. instead, she swallowed it whole like a pill and would let her stomach attack it; she needed her mind to stay clear and open.
"have you... faired well since her passing, wintersbane?" she didn't want to go into personal issues so quickly, but she couldn't curb her curiosity. the man was the closest to the undomiel, the sudden lost must have been great on him. she hoped he faired well, his front was cool, but she felt curious about the inside. "again, i apologize if this is too personal but... you were close to her and... i worried about everyone grieving, especially you." she hoped he gave himself enough time to heal his scarred heart.
RE: the art of war is of vital - RIP Wintersbane - February 22, 2020
have you faired well since her passing?
for a long moment, wintersbane doesn't answer. he isn't sure how to ...at least, not without sounding callous. ❝would you believe me if i told you that andraste was not the first woman i loved that i have lost?❞ for a moment, his glacial gaze studies the vast stretch of the wilds yawning before them in the distance. ❝her name was relmyna and she was my first love.❞ not his first crush, mind. no, that belonged to hydra ( whom is thankfully still living ).
❝that doesn't make losing andraste easier but...❞ but i am equipped to deal with it better. ❝i can't help but think that i'm cursed.❞ despite the sincerity of his words he lets out a low, perhaps mirthless chuckle. ❝perhaps it's time i realize that love is not meant to be in the cards for me.❞ wintersbane says with a slightly sardonic twist of his lips. children, yes; but never love. never marriage.
RE: the art of war is of vital - Gracious - February 26, 2020
a terrible fate for his first love, gracious could feel her heart weep for wintersbane as her eats gently fold back against her head. to lose love again and again, a heart could only do so much to mend itself, to keep itself together and beating. she couldn't imagine the pain he had to endure. "i'm so sorry..." her voice is low, quiet like a whisper. she knew love (little bits) and she certainly knew loss, but to have together entertwined -- an everlasting feeling of sadness, a pit with no end.
she stepped closer towards him, steps slow and drawn out. when she closed the distance, her muzzle aimed to gently brush against his cheek; a soft gesture that could speak more than her words. should he pull away, she'd swing her face back and let the space be there to exist between the two. "love is a fickle thing," she said softly, "it can be easy for many, but so difficult for others. so many challenges and tests it puts us through."
"but giving up won't make everything better for you, wintersbane, everyone deserves love. and sometimes we just have to keep trying." she had little experience with the whole "love" ordeal, yet spoke as if she was a relationship guru. she had a knack for understanding others and trying to help, but sometimes she devled too deep into unknown territory. she wondered what the male would think.
RE: the art of war is of vital - RIP Wintersbane - March 01, 2020
i'm so sorry, wintersbane's ear flickers as gracious offers her condolences to him in a low, quiet whisper. though the tundrian isn't sure he'll ever truly be over the deaths of the women he's loved in his life he also knows and acknowledges that he cannot be torn about their untimely departure forever ...for, as callous as he knows it sounds, they are dead and he is alive and he has to live his life.
a furrow of his brow is given as the woman steps nearer to him, glacial gaze watching the slow, drawn out measure of her steps as if gauging his reaction to her proximity. the touch of her muzzle against his scarred cheek is ...surprising; surprising yet that it draws forth a soft shudder down the curve of his spine but wintersbane doesn't pull away. her words reverberate in his mind and he considers them and that, ultimately, she's right. what is the use of locking himself up? it wouldn't bring andraste or relmyna back and it would do nothing but hurt him in the end.
❝i believe you're right.❞ he rumbles in quiet thought, despite that there will come trepidation with the next love he feels; a natural reaction to the nagging suspicion that he is cursed nonetheless.
RE: the art of war is of vital - Gracious - March 05, 2020
he didn't pull away from her, the gesture continued and he seemed to appreciate it. sometimes words couldn't match up to actions; she was glad she was able to help him in such a subtle way. touch, the prickling of skin and fur against one another, be it a shoulder or a nose or a cheek. it was precious, comforting, and timeless.
"she didn't choose to leave you," she whispered to him, "nor did your last love. your heart was more than ready to give itself up to them. it was fate, a cruel and wicked beast. nothing you did could be at fault." wintersbane was more gentle than she'd imagined speaking to, but she appreciated every bit of him. caring and thoughtful, a man who would listen. the position of eisen was destined for him. gracious would follow until he provoked feelings otherwise.
"perhaps, you may find another to love her in sagtannet. there are many beautiful faces here, from diaspora and those who have come to join us. leave your heart open, but you don't have to rush." she had seen a few, not all, but a few here in the spire. golden eyes or dark russet coats, plenty of hearts that could be woed. now that needed to happen was a larger introduction to them.
"you are a good man. in the end, they are rewarded dear wintersbane."
RE: the art of war is of vital - RIP Wintersbane - March 21, 2020
❝perhaps,❞ wintersbane ruminates upon gracious' words of finding another love. as she advises him that he doesn't have to rush, wintersbane wholeheartedly agrees. he has no intentions of rushing. he's always been more the type of: letting the chips fall where they may. if that kind of future was yet in the cards for him than so be it. if not, then it was what it was. he wasn't actively looking ...hadn't been the previous times either. love and tragedy did a good job of finding him upon its own.
his lips twitch into a terse line of disagreement at her next statement. he wasn't a good man; not really. a good man wouldn't have nearly killed his own sister ...but she doesn't know the crimes of his past. the terrible things he's done but doesn't feel apologetic for. ❝you're giving me much more credit than i deserve.❞ he teases, but the shadows of his gaze tells that he sincerely believes his own words.
the pair talk a bit more before parting ways.