Sunbeam Lair You're free to leave me but just don't deceive me

@Aurëwenn

He could smell the pack further up the Lake, sequestered somewhere in the creases and crevices of the mountain range. His was immediately curious, though aware of his vulnerable position as he walked along the lake's shore. Anyone on the mountainside could see him coming from lengths away. That was, if they were anxious and wary of invaders and strangers. It could be very true that no one had eyes on him, that he was just another wisp in the wind.

Dated to 4/20 for the twins
my post quality is dwindling pls forgive

Her brother lingered a while aways from where Aurëwen now treaded along the throat of streams that led from the Lake itself; the children were under the care of the midwife she'd come to trust, and with Vonnaruil acting sentinel on this timid forage, she was as safe as she could be. So, with spring showers flushing and fading through the mountains by the hour, the twins had set off.

She'd meant to head for Sunbeam once more, but had ended up meandering along the chuckling brooks instead. Meeting Ingram and Indra  ( as hesitant as those meetings had gone, anyways )  had reignited a wondrous little flicker within the silver. But beneath the watchful, langorous eye of her brother, she felt unbound and unfettered by the shame that'd once petered after her in the last few days. Along the way, then, she tasted and trilled towards those familiar flora she'd come to know in her time spent in Diaspora.

"Lavandă, măduvă, cimbru..." The words wisped from scarred lips, and feeling a little pulse of self-pride muted whatever inconsistencies fluttered in her mind and breast. If anything else would be lost to her, at least she would know her greenery. It was with a faint quirk of lips that she looked up —

— and whatever the smile may have been faltered, as she took in the sight of the wanderer not too far from her. Remained wary, though not quite wardsome, until he made himself known.

Someone was approaching him. He looked up towards the sound and found a pale woman muttering to herself. His ears pricked and delight washed over him as he recognized the language, his brain quickly shifting gears.

A question came to mind, brought by her choice of language. Was she a strigoi like him? He had not met one in years. He couldn't smell blood on her, only milk and the strange scent that comes from pups, and his suspicions were confirmed from looking at her stomach. He immediately dismissed her as a potential target — he did not hunt pregnant or nursing women, especially not when she was so close to her own pack — but harbored some suspicions of her being a rival, though this was quickly surpressed. He was too excited to hear his tongue spoken with someone else's voice.

Esti un medic? he greeted her, slipping into the words easily and with glee. Sunt ierburile bune pentru mame?

For a breathless moment, Aurëwen didn’t respond; she’d expected an introduction, but never of this sort! At once, stuttering, ”Limba mea! Ce minunat! Am crezut că eu sunt singurul care a vorbit!” As with Sanguinis, any uncertainties took flight right from her head; at once, a fidgety, girlish giggle leapt from her breast regardless of her mothering figure.

A flush came to high, scarred cheeks and she canted forward with a minute wriggle, ever-furled ears flickering forwardfor the first time in forever. Her tail became a feathering frenzy, and a gleam flourished at her lips.

Well, so much for being wardly.

In her euphoria, she’d all but forgotten the inquiry that came from the enshrouded male’s lips — a test? The giggly gleam thinned into an impish simper, and she vaguely trilled, ”Nu. Plante comune pentru mame ar fi borage, picioarele și anumite fructe de pădure.” Then, unable to resist entirely, chirruped, ”De ce? Dai mamei tale mai multe dureri de cap decât merită?”

She burst into excitement, mirroring the emotions that he felt inside but contained. He was never that expressive, but let a (relatively) large smile spread across his face. Am crezut același lucru! It was true. No one else had responded to his words the same way as she. He usually spoke it just to spook people. It was refreshing to use it for casual conversation. His body began to mirror her own, loosening the tight muscles of his body as he relaxed at her cheerfulness.

Jury was still out about her diet preferences. Would it be rude to ask? He usually found another of his kind by stumbling onto their meal. 

He knew little about midwifery, or whatever pre- and post-natal care was called, so he had no clue if that would be useful. His mother had died giving birth to him, his first kill. He simply smiled. Sunt sigur că nu mai face griji pentru mine. Lavender, marrow, thyme. He had little knowledge of herbalism. He knew thyme as sweet-smelling and lavender as beautiful. Atunci ce aduni? Dacă nu vă deranjează să vă întreb.

A gleeful shake of nevermind that came to her dove-boned head, ”Nimic în particular, într-adevăr. Ne-am completat stocurile din ziua de azi.” She paused for a moment, and then mused,  ”Încă mă familiarizez cu plantele de aici.“ With a little ho-hum, the silver continued her daylight promenade, entirely unassuming of the wanderer who now accompanied her.  ( Vonn trailed whiles away, guarded, but certainly keen. )

The only blood she’d ever tasted was when she dined for only the hungering of her belly; not true, off-kilter bloodlust that Rakk, or even the Dread Wolf, had entertained in. As it was, none of these thoughts crossed her mind at present.

Starlit gaze studied how sunlight played upon the brook’s waters; so far, it seem rain intended to stay away. ”Eu sunt Aurëwen,” the herbalist-indeed trilled, and finally returned a merry gaze to the ashen male alongside. Tail feathered at her hocks, and she felt remiss that better weather couldn’t be had for this meeting.

He bowed his head to her. His glee had not disappaited. He felt a connection that he had lacked with many others that he had met in his life. It felt nice to speak to her, to hear his voice and hers in Romanian rather than the common tongue. It was refreshing, and Athan felt a new surge of rejuvenation everytime one of them spoke. Sunt Athanasius.

He gestured to her stomach, though her scent was evidence enough. Ai copii, da? He looked up at her, quietly hoping that they hadn't died recently — such a threat was real when winter was still at the door. Îi vei învăța pe români?

Her ears flickered at the statement, nodded at the question, and then thought on it. The silver wondered at the Trigedasleng — she hadn’t quite considered if her children would grow with only the common tongue. Aside from the frequent give of bounkola, Aure hadn’t really heard the rough-hewn language in quite some time. But, regarding Athan's question once more, she hummed, "Mi-ar placea sa. Dar soțul meu-- Adică, tatăl," snagging her tongue, "Are propria sa limbă."

Aure looked as if she wanted to say more, but she only pressed her scarred lips into a thin line and let her eyes fall to the croaking currents.

In the near-fortnight they'd quarreled, and adore him as she did, they hadn't breathed naught a word to another; unless it pertained to childing and the watching of them. Frustration was shown by an irriant, cat-like twitching of her tail, though. On her part, at least, she missed her beloved, and felt so faraway by this rift; but by this point, she hoped Diaspora knew how diligent she'd come to be once more. All she said to Anathsius, though, was a quiet, "Trebuie să vorbesc cel puțin despre asta."

But with the children growing, and their babbling turning to slurry lisps... what would their first words be? Nomi? Mamă? Naneth?  ( Or even, as her twin had jested, emig? )  A softer tremble came to her lips then, imagining Dragomir, pink nose scrunched with concentration soon to come; and Isi, all wide-eyed and slurry with her own focus. "Indiferent de limba pe care o alegem, copiii noștri vor învăța cu ușurință."

He knew little about children. He had none of his own — did he want any? he could not say for certain. It would be interesting to have children of his own, but he had no parenting drive — and he had little interaction with children ever since he was chased out banished from his birthplace. He knew that children were absorbant, taking in as much knowledge as they could.

Nu pot învăța pe amândouă? he asked, genuinely curious. It did not seem unfesiable for children to learn multiple tongues, even small tidbits of each. He realized that he was in an incredibly vulnerable space and he wasn't sure what to. Casual conversation. How long had it been since he had been in this position? How long had it been since he spoke to someone without wanting to rip their throat out?

Years, really. Since he was young and naive. A lifetime ago. He felt suddenly uncomfortable, but was unsure how to address it, or if he even should.

At his next query, Aure found herself nodding along with the pewter male at her side. "Sunt sigur că pot." She mused, tail flickering idly at her bony hocks. "Chiar și un pic de ceva este mai bun decât nimic." Whichever language the babes took to in the end, she was certain that the knowledge would be engulfed by the fires of Isi's voracious mind and Drago's soothing, steadying contemplations.  ( At least, she thinks it'll turn out that way. )

Several beats of silence currented between them, and though it may have been awkward for Athansius, it was nothing but leisurely for the silver herself. It wasn't until a tad later that she quipped, as unassumingly as could be, "Dacă mă ajută, nici măcar nu vorbesc bine."

A pink-toed paw scuffed the earth, following the words, wryness curling her lips and words. "Îmi place să cred că sunt liniștită ... Deși mi sa spus că sunt destul de vorbitor." With a meek clearing of her throat and a bit of an apologetic smile, her eyes crescented. "Iarta-ma?"

He hummed in agreement, gently nodding his head. Silence took over the conversation. It was a mix of strangeness — he was used to being alone, but at the same time, he knew that conversations did not usually have such pauses. He did not know what to say, having been so far removed from a normal conversation for such a large part of his life. He was surprised to hear that she was the one apologizing.

Ai o voce frumoasa, He said, smiling reassuredly. Nu este nevoie să fii timid.

i just realized this is in sunbeam omg. im a fool
im a fool in a mans shoes

Heavens, when was the last time she'd been truly admired? On a trait other than her evidently-marred features  ( which she wouldn't ever understand to be praise-able )?  As with Sange, even Verx, a flush of white-rose draped itself along the back of her neck, veiled over her ears, and resided in her cheeks. "M-multumesc," then, fumbling in her bashfulness, [hover=Your voice is lovely, too.]"Și vocea ta este minunată." What else to say? Her eyes continued to roam the Lair, or her paws, alighting on all those familar properties and those quite unfamiliar.

A cluster of burgeoning flora, the dusted, growing earth they now traversed, that draping lichens she'd become acquainted with -- "O, da." Turned to her breathing acquaintance, a sudden concern in her eyes, both hesitant and faintly embittered, "Dacă vreți să veniți aici, aș fi precaut. Când am descoperit pentru prima oară acest Lair, am întâlnit un..." How to phrase @Redshank in the faintest demeaning way as possible? "Căpcăun." That was well, right? He wouldn't return to ooze bile on her as she slept?

"...Eu am fost cel care a inițiat lupta," she coughed, canted her head away in some shame. But then, the adamant set to her jaw had returned, "Dar a fost o mizerie! Și am fost bine! Și nu ma lăsat să fure."

With that, she pranced a ways from Athansius with an unconvincing toss of her head. "A fost febră de primăvară, jur." And a conoction of perpetual pampering and bordeom, which she'd certainly admitted to already, but... "Păi, păzește-te, presupun," came the huffy little pout, and she glanced over to the grey with a prim look.

Like with Aurëwen, he was not used to such compliments. It felt strange to have something other than insults thrown in his face. He grinned and dipped his head. Mulțumesc.

Strange strange strange. He couldn't say if he exactly liked or hated this. It just felt strange to him. Uneasy. His emotions became easier to express, without any pretexts. He was never like this, not even with his lovely Mazatl. It was the language, he said to himself. Mazatl never spoke.

He didn't think he would change after this conversation — he was still a bloodthirsty vampire, after all — but it felt nice to have a 'normal' conversation. It felt nice. It was nice.

Căpcăun? He repeated. What kind of a beast would that be? A wolf? A bear? Something else? He snorted. Cred că există tot felul de monștri. He wondered if she had truly encountered some supernatural creature or was just describing an exceptionally brutish individual. He laughed at her explanation, stepping back in mock fear. Cât de feroce! De unde știu că nu ești căprior?

wow this is late sry

The prim look turned — at the questioning of leprechauns and mythical beasts alike — persuasive, for what else could that vile combatant have to dignify himself as anything but mortal? And sane? ...But then Athanasius gave a proclamation of mock-surprise, something or other about her being a hind in hiding. ”Ar trebui să fiu flatat?” the silver implored petulantly, even though she soon surrendered a smile.

”Aș vrea să fiu, în aceste zile. Am ajuns destul de gras cu bebelușii și nu m-am îndepărtat prea mult de plante așa cum este,” Aurëwen scoffed, trailing back to her overcast companion. ”Ar trebui să mă întorc la familia mea, totuși. Ce vrei să te sun, dacă copiii mei vor cere astăzi găsirea mea aici?” Certainly no leprechaun, though.

Da. He grinned. He thought so at least. To be considered something more than mortal was an honor rather than a curse. He quite liked his lifestyle, though, upon conversing with this woman, he was considering the downfalls of being a wolf-eater. Unless he found others of his kind, he would not be able to have children. Well, he could, and he might, but they would never be his. He has no community. No family. As far as he knew, the Meloniis would always shun him — it was not unlikely that the story would be passed through the generations, though whether his name would be remembered was. Those who had saw him would not forget, though.

Un strigoi. He said, honest behind what he believed — hoped? — was a veil of playfulness. Spune-le că ai luptat cu monstrul care venise să-i mănânce. He grinned mischeviously then. He wouldn't eat children — at least not her children.

Oh, a blood-letting sort of monstrul? Should she in fact tell her children, she’d have to explain to them just what strigoi were. Aurëwen’s coy grin only crescented further, and it became evident that she neither believed or denied the truthfulness of his words. ”O voi face,” she cooed all the same, giving an intrigued shiver of her pale ruff. ”Și ar trebui să mă grăbesc acasă să le spun toată povestea, nu?”

With that note, the silver swept low, wriggling her shoulders and tail, as if readying to be shooed from his sights at a moment’s notice. ”Dacă ne întâlnim vreodată din nou, Athanasius, sper că vei avea niște povești pentru mine?” She brimmed from this chance encounter of speaking in such a familiar tongue, and with a chirrup of giddiness, she hastened back above earth; nothing more than an ivory will-o-wisp amongst spring green.

last one from me <33

Thanks for the thread! This was super cute.

She only seemed amused rather than fearful or startled, so he believed that she was in the opinion that they were both still teasing each other. O da, Athan said, grinning. Cu cat mai repede cu atat mai bine. Monstrul încă mai ascultă. Vreți să le avertizați cât de repede puteți, He chuckled then.

Așa sper, He nodded to her then. She got up to leave, but he remained, content to watch her disappear into the mists and crags of the mountains. Adio.

As she left his sight a sudden emptiness filled him. He was unsure if he would see her again. His nature always drove him to roam, and many things could change by the time he returned. It often did. He shook his head, savoring the moment as it ended and he moved on.