+- Wolf RPG (https://wolf-rpg.com)
+-- Forum: In Character: Roleplaying (https://wolf-rpg.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=5)
+--- Forum: Snowforest Taiga (https://wolf-rpg.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=76)
+--- Thread: Larksong Grotto echoes of the past (/showthread.php?tid=66810)
echoes of the past - Yesfir - December 29, 2025
A breeze swept across the wintry domain, stirring the snow's surface. In the cold night, Yesfir sat at the base of a tree, its sprawling, bare limbs stretching out towards the dark heavens. Cradled in her tender embrace lied the skull of a caribou-- cracked and weathered. Its life had long, long since been extinguished. Yet her head remained lowered towards its ivory sockets, her lips moving with quiet murmurs, as though her words might still be received by the beast's marrow. The sound was lost against the creaking of branches overhead.
There was a softness to the woman's eye. Gentle as the beat of a dove's wings-- yet tempered by a solemn air. If she hadn't occasionally lifted her gaze towards the night or over her pale shoulder, perhaps she could have passed as something born of the snow.
RE: echoes of the past - Anundr - December 29, 2025
not me stealing almost your every open thread ahahah
The norseman stepped from the tree line, his heavy paws breaking the frozen crust of the snow. He didn't bother with stealth. His coat was thick, matted, and stiff with patches of dried, brown blood from a previous kill. He smelled of old iron and wet earth.He stopped a few feet away, his yellow eyes fixing on the woman and the white bone in her lap. A low, guttural grunt vibrated in his chest, not a threat, just a sound of confusion. He watched her lips move against the skull.
„Bein,” he grunted, gesturing with a blunt chin toward the caribou. „Dauðr.” He stepped closer, the scent of his unwashed fur and stale blood thickening the air. He didn't understand why she sat still in the dark. Silence in the winter was a trap.
„Hmph.” He looked at her pale face, then at the frost forming on the bark behind her. „Kuldi drepur,” he rasped, his common broken and thick with a norse accent. „Cold... kill. You... move.” He didn't offer a hand. He simply stood there, a ragged wall of fur, waiting to see if she had enough sense to get up before the night froze her heart.
RE: echoes of the past - Yesfir - December 29, 2025
no complaints here <3
The delicate hush was broken by a voice-- guttural, blunt. Norse. A sharp, metallic aroma followed in its wake. Yesfir's clouded eyes lifted from the skull, her mouth parted in a flicker of shock. A burly man stepped from the shadows, dark and matted by crimson. The Grotto was a hidden location; known by few, traversed by fewer. The lass did not speak as he approached. She merely sat, wide-eyed, as though perhaps he were addressing the tree behind her.
But he stopped in front of her. And she leaned heavier against the chilling bark, her pale breath curling over wispy cheeks.
...Move?
Yesfir's expression descended into something darker-- her ears lay flat, like a mother shielding its cub from threat.
But she wasn't finished!
"Nei," She murmured breathily, her gaze averted from the brute's features. "Nei, dróttinn... Ek þarf blessun til veiða!"
His warning went unheeded. The woman was never known for sense-- not when it came to the dead. As frost dared to form at the tip of her coat, she met his look briefly, flashing a fleeting warning:
Do not come closer.
RE: echoes of the past - Anundr - December 30, 2025
Anundr halted, the sound of her words in the old tongue made his ears twitch. He did not expect to find a woman of the north in this hidden place, especially not one who looked like she was made of snow.
He stared at her, his golden gaze narrowing as he watched her protect the skull. He felt a deep confusion. To him, the hunt was about the strength of the jaw and the weight of the body, not words spoken to a dead beast. He wondered if her mind was broken or if the Æsir were playing a trick on him by placing a madwoman in his path.
The northman did not move closer after her warning, letting the scent of his matted coat and dried blood fill the space between them. „Blessun?” he grunted. The word was a low rumble. „Bein gefa ekki mat. Styrkur gefur mat.” Anundr believed in the Old Gods, but did not ask them for meat or pray for a hunt. He thought the gods only watched to see if a man was strong enough to kill. He pointed his blunt chin at the yellowed skull in her lap. To him, the bone was just a piece of waste from a dead meal.
The northman huffed, forcing thick steam from his nostrils and mouth. He stood still and watched her, but the lack of movement allowed the cold to seep through his matted fur and into his skin. He felt his muscles begin to stiffen. He knew that standing still in the snow was a way to die, and he did not like the way his own heat was leaving him.
„Hreyfðu þig,” he commanded, gesturing with a heavy, blood-stained paw toward the path.
RE: echoes of the past - Yesfir - December 31, 2025
Strength. Yes...strength was a mighty power, a weapon wielded by the living. But even the greatest of strength bowed to the force of inevitable death. In the end, might had no room to speak against the darkness of fate. That was the belief that she came to as a former mortician-- the gatekeeper of fallen warriors, the speaker to souls.
Blessun...Blessun... it needed to be on her side.
Yesfir allowed the silence to stretch thin and long before she spoke at last.
"...Rangt mælir þú."
The words slipped beneath the gentle warmth of her breath. Quiet descended once more. However...she would move by the norseman's command.
The pale woman pushed herself onto all fours, an almost uncanny fluidity present in every movement. Silent, airy. Her gaze refused to meet the sharpness of the brute's; instead, it fixated upon the shadow of his chest's muscle. It might have been mistaken for submission...if not for the cold detachment within the glint of her eye. A reservation that didn't quite fit the label of timid.
"Kuldi...mun mik eigi sigra," Yesfir added, her tone steady as the fall of snow. Though numbness coiled through her limbs, her fangs closed around the skull's antlers-- a stubborn final attempt to cling to it. It dragged slowly through the snow. Perhaps...it would be too heavy to tow.
RE: echoes of the past - Anundr - January 02, 2026
happy new year!! <3
I love yesfir so much already
I love yesfir so much already
Steam hissed from a rugged muzzle as the pale figure began to move. She did not rise with the heavy effort of a tired hunter, but with a fluid, haunting ease that seemed wrong for the freezing terrain. A slow, heavy blink filtered through sulfurous eyes as the Northman watched her. Irritation gathered in his chest. To his eyes, she was a creature made of the very snow she sat in, yet she clung to a piece of dead bone with the grip of a starving animal.
[indent[The caribou antlers caught in the frozen crust as she tried to tow the weight. It left a jagged furrow in the white ground, a slow and useless trail. A low, vibrating huff rattled the dried blood matted into the black fur of his chest. This skull was not a tool. It carried no scent of a pack or a pup, and it offered no warmth. It was baggage that cost her the heat of her own body to move.
One massive, mud-stained paw came down. The weight of his heavy frame crushed the snow, pinning the antlers deep into the frozen earth and stopping the movement instantly. He did not snarl or show his teeth; he saw how thin her limbs were compared to his own. Using force on her would be like striking a hollow reed. He remained a solid barrier of matted hair and old grease, blocking her path and holding the bone in place.
„Bein er þungt. Slepptu,” he rasped, blunt words that lacked any softness. He stared at the top of her head, waiting for the command to sink in. The cold was still biting at his joints, and his patience for the glass daughter was gone.
RE: echoes of the past - Yesfir - January 02, 2026
Happy new year! And tysm <3 I love Anundr as well !!
A sudden force anchored the skull, a sharp grunt torn from her as her movement was forced to a halt. A shadow loomed overhead, darker, more sinister than the night and stained by the blood of prey. Her brows furrowed, nostrils flaring against the man's pungent scent.
Let go.
He didn't understand...he didn't understand!
For a moment longer, Yesfir clung to the antlers, still as the barren pine surrounding them. She didn't wish to let go-- not yet. But she was accustomed to the ways of the norsemen. Brutish canines who measured respect by the physical-- her kin. The woman felt a foolish lack of fear beneath his presence, but she knew better than to challenge a beast who viewed her as little more than a moth. The Grotto knew her name, after all. And if it was what she desired, she could return for the bone of the caribou.
Yesfir's lips curled back into a snarl, fierce yet silent-- the only effort she could afford to spare.
And then she let go.
The lass pivoted away slowly, her expression stoic. Her icy gaze lingered on his feet as barely audible words parted from cold lips.
"bastarðr sonr hræfugla."
Spoken with a venom so ancient it could pass for curse.
"One day...augu þín munu upp opnask."