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+--- Thread: Herbalists' Cache though winter be a brittle beast (/showthread.php?tid=45940)
though winter be a brittle beast - Necahual - January 02, 2021
@Godbrand I wasn't sure if he'd be with her or not but feel free to join in. (Dated for 12/27/2020 - 12/31/2020)
she'd arrived at the thick glen several days ago, a tangled wood that provided shelter even though the flora had lost the majority of their foliage. it spoke of a tiny haven that might've been a treasure trove of life, sustenance - had the weather been warmer.
as it was, there were small creatures buried away where one might be clever (or desperate) enough to look. aerin feasted on tiny critters buried in hibernation burrows, scratching her pinkpads raw on tree roots in search of the micro meals; the voles and squirrels groggy with instinctive slumber or else frozen in their beds.
it was shortly after her arrival that the cloud cover inched in, growing darker and heavier as the hours crept by. a metallic current charged the air, smelling of her northern homeland and singing to something forgotten in her blood.
her paws cracked and bled often as the winterwhite turned her attentions to instinctive digging over the span of several days. by the time the storm struck, it would find aerin curled up safely inside the earthen den - her dainty paws flayed and ruddied by her frenzied efforts.
in the black of night, the halfling rasped a soothing tongue over her shredded paw pads - the sensation like that of flames streaking across the raw flesh and also somehow easing the pain. she could not have slept if she tried, her heart thrumming wildly in her chest as she listened to the wind roar.
RE: though winter be a brittle beast - Lovecraft - January 03, 2021
It had taken him some time to venture north, his brisk traveling pace slowed by the deepening chill of winter. It became more and more difficult to find all that he needed to sustain himself as the frigid weather tightened its grip upon the world. as he drew northward, though, he felt a curious touch of nostalgia mingled with comfort. the landscape grew colder and gained the height of the ancient coniferous forest, and he realized that this taiga was very similar to the one in which he had been raised. he had returned to the environment he was built for, and it relieved him somewhat to think that his arctic blood would carry him through.
He caught a thin young hare, pausing to eat one of the thighs. His white maw was soon painted in shades of pink and red, teeth shredding meat and smaller leg bones; the longer bones were discarded into the snow. He picked up the remainder of the kill and continued on his days-long search for a place to bed down and rest for a few days.
it was not long before he noticed a scattering of freshly overturned earth. he knew immediately what it meant. some animal had dug itself a den, and recently. he approached it, unable to determine what kind of animal had created the burrow until the wind changed and brought him the scent of a canine, a female. He felt his belly somersault. In a perfect world, the den would have belonged to a small animal that he could eat before claiming the shelter as his own, but instead, the space was taken by one of his own kind. as always, encounters with other wolves were potentially dangerous.
He stood staring at the entrance, realizing that there were two blood-scents in his nostrils. That of the hare he held in his jaws, and that of the wolf lurking in the cavern. She was injured. Still, he could not decide whether to approach or to flee.
RE: though winter be a brittle beast - Necahual - January 05, 2021
thank you for joining! I love Lovecraft's name! :3
in spite of the hypervigilance that painted her timorous movements in heavy brush strokes of agitation, the mark of a broken creature if ever one existed, she could not say she detected his presence immediately. though in her defense, she hadn't been expecting company in the midst of a raging blizzard.
his scent trickled down to her slowly, carried by whistling tendrils of frigid air. in the muffled blackness of night, blind to every threat and trapped by the storm, aerin considered for the first time how this refuge might become her tomb.
the saluki's pale diadem weaved uncertainly as it raised, tongue swiping over her scarred chops anxiously. fluffy, butterfly auds slowly rose to full mast - straining against the wild howl of the winter gales beating against the earth.
with her moonlight gaze locked unwaveringly upon the patch of black where she thought the tunnel to the entrance lay, the tarnished maid of ivory waited for some flicker in the shadows that might indicate life but her eyes only teased her with dancing images of imagined monsters in the dark.
"'ello?" the dove called softly after a moment, knowing if she had not gone mad and the man was truly there, he would be able to smell her too.
never once did it cross her mind that he might be debating whether she was a threat, surprised as she was by his appearance outside her shelter. a humorous thought - but a rational one.
the unknown was much scarier in the dark - especially with winter tearing through the night around them, bringing death with it.
RE: though winter be a brittle beast - Lovecraft - January 08, 2021
thank you! <3 i absolutely love that Aerin is part saluki!
Had there not been a winter tempest unleashing her rage all around him, Lovecraft could easily have moved along, avoiding the possibility of confrontation, of having his diminuative meal coveted. But he needed rest; even his arctic blood, proud of it though he was, could not stave off the weakening of his muscles and the cold pain in his bones.
The smell of wolf blood had put him at ease, though, regarding the situation. A wounded canine could probably harm him less than one of full health. His ear canted to the soft hymn of greeting that came from within the burrow, just as a fresh and violent gust swept into him. He had to raise his voice when he responded to her, an oddity for the softspoken man.
"Hey, can I... Can I come in there?" He was surprised by his own words, by their bluntness and urgency. He lowered his head and crept toward the entrance to the den, his footsteps slow and unsteady beneath the burden of the icy wind.
when he spoke again, his voice had regained some of its softness, as he was closer to her and could speak directly into the mouth of the cavern. "I won't hurt you. I have some food." Now that he had begun to accept the severity of the weather, Love was glad he had the rabbit to bargain with.
RE: though winter be a brittle beast - Necahual - January 09, 2021
<3
despite the sliver of scent that reached her, the halfling started just so with a nervous jump of her heart, her ears perking skyward with alarm. forcing herself to calm as the acrid perfume of fear budded from her pores, the midwife pressed back against the earthen walls as a soft tempo of footfalls made itself known over the whiteout.
"oh, yes, of course," the brumal sylph lilted, her words little more than a wisp of sound. even so, her whispers seemed inexplicably loud beneath the cover of darkness - every sound amplified by blindness. "vere ye lost? in ze storm?"
"zat is most kind, ser." her tones remained hushed, pallid gaze flickering about in the fruitless endeavor to make him out.
her eyes failed again in their struggle against the abysmal ink of the hour of the bat; which left only the occasional brush of his fur against aerin's own as they accidentally bumped in their sightless state and his own similar subdued baritones.
"vhat is yer name?" she dared to inquire of her faceless companion after a moment, hoping it might still the last stutters of her quavering heart to put a name to the stranger in her den.
RE: though winter be a brittle beast - Lovecraft - January 17, 2021
So sorry about the wait!
He was somewhat surprised by the lack of hesitation. Rather, she graciously agreed to let him enter her burrow. Lovecraft blinked once, then as a gust of wind rushed into him, he threw one last glance over his spindly shoulder and slipped into the darkness beside her.
And how dark it was. He brushed against her as he turned around within the dirt cavern, unable to see how large the space was nor where he was in proximation to her. With an apologetic wag (albeit one she may have been blind to in this shivering darkness), the snowy wolf dropped the remnants of the rabbit to the earth and bent to shove the carcass toward her with his snout. "Eat as much as you want," he added, his voice somewhat gruff as the reality of their circumstances began to sink into him. How long would the storm rage on?
"My name's Lovecraft," he replied finally. Her voice was beautiful; there was a quality of the way she spoke that he had never heard before; an exotic sharpness to certain intonnations, giving her words an almost musical effect. "Who're you...? Are you okay?"
RE: though winter be a brittle beast - Necahual - January 18, 2021
"thank ye," she murmured, octaves brushed with opaque strokes of gratitude, "but that's alright. i 'ave some game stored 'ere. ye should eat an' regain yer strength."
there was no telling how long he'd travelled or what state he might be in. nor could they know when the blizzard might break. they needed to ration what food they did have wisely -- her stomach could be staved off for a time yet.
"I am called," -- and it was on her tongue to say awenfen, who had died with aliroth -- , "aerin. it is good to meet ye, lovecraft, but I do vish it 'ad been under different circumstances, aye,?" the last is light, a breathy half-laugh accompanying it almost nervously.
"oh, yes," the healer answered, misted gaze falling to her small paws even though she could not make them out. her pawpads throbbed, each pulse sending small waves of pain radiating through her ragged flesh. "i 'ave 'ad vorse."
"vhy were ye out in ze storm -- if'n ye donnae mind my askin'?" came the next curious inquiry through the pitch between them, soft and neutral as if to imply that she was reluctant to pry.
RE: though winter be a brittle beast - Lovecraft - January 24, 2021
His senses, stung and muted by the icy wind, seemed to strengthen in the relief afforded by the underground shelter. He scented the game she mentioned, and a swell of relief overcame his panic. "Oh, good then," he said with a sigh that was half ironic laughter. Perhaps, they would not starve. Not immediately, at least.
Her name spilled from her lips like a crisp mountain spring, beautiful in the accent of her voice. "Definitely. I can't think of worse circumstances, really," he said with soft darkness. She reassured him about her injuries, though he couldn't be sure how honest she was being, as he could not see her paws clearly enough to ascertain the severity with which she suffered. She had to be fine for the moment; those in intense pain wouldn't be able to speak fluidly as she spoke with him now. He would watch, though.
"I... I just wanted to return to the forest. I guess," He murmured. He sat back on his haunches before stretching his long front limbs to rest on the ground, careful not to bump into her. The dry earth beneath him was a comfort to his tired bones. "It was an ill-fated decision, obviously." Love added another dark snicker, then turned his silver gaze sharply toward her. "Why are you here?"
RE: though winter be a brittle beast - Necahual - January 25, 2021
the halfling's porcelain diadem canted to the side, wisps trailing, at the lurch in his soft baritones -- wondering though she would never find the courage to ask, knowing well there were some bones better left buried. still, she dared to inquire: "ye 'ave lived 'ere once, then?"
"aye, but chin up, friend. like many things, it could be vorse, no?" aerin chuckled softly as she said it but could only imagine what it must be like to be lost in this.
curse her. always asking and never expecting that her own curiosity might be weaponized against her. for a few heartbeats, silence swelled between them in a pregnant pause as the midwife's lips parted. no sound escaped as they closed and opened again, at a loss of how to answer.
did he mean how she had come to reside in teekon in the first place? or mayhaps just the reason as to why she was camped out alone in the woods.
"truthfully? i donnae think i 'ave a purpose 'ere. I am only.. vandering," the exile confessed in an honest sough, a whisper to the rage outside.