Silverlight Terrace blue

He carried a thin pelt in his jaws, rolled as tightly as a wolf nose was capable of rolling. Like a very nice joint, except he didn't twist the end. That would've been hard, considering the material. And he didn't smoke because fire was difficult for wolves, and dangerous to boot. And anyway, he had feathers in the roll of deerskin; long and fine and fancifully colored. Some came from climes much warmer than these, and other from birds far larger than a wolf's usual fare. And it wasn't as though he was about to light those on fire, right? He wasn't an idiot.

So. He carried the pelt. He walked on long, rangy, legs. He lifted his nose high in the air, like a deer scenting the wind. Or like a wolf scenting the wind. That's a bit closer, actually — the wolf bit. He did that lip-curling thing. Flume? Flem? It helped him catch scents better, presumably. He didn't do it because it looked cool.

There were packs in seemingly every direction. He stood very still, overwhelmed, and tried to decide which one he ought to go to, first.

edit: oops if this isnt AW lemme know!!

It was the daughter of a moonwoman who spotted him from her place up on a hill.

Once she had been charmed by a Dying Sun here, but it was not him who stood here now. It was a man who carried something rolled within his jaws and was painted in lighter hues.

She called to him now with a low warm tone.

Would he be interested enough in coming to see her? Perhaps he meant to run off another direction.

She could be patient.

hehe gotcha... but yeah no it's AW :) :) :)

The only thing Elk didn't do with expedience was Decide Things, at least when his interests were divided so evenly. He had come from a high place, and so the mountain pack seemed ideal. Yet the valley and the sea were newer and more interesting — shouldn't he broaden his horizons?

He might've dithered a long while if a voice hadn't called out to him. The young man's head swung in the direction of the call, and his black-tipped tail whisked in pleased introduction. Thus commanded, Elk set off in her direction, his head still held high and proud but bright inquiry in his youthful gaze. He approached a woman of a similar height to his own, carrying similar hues in her pelt as well, though she was not so charcoal-smudged as he. A find specimen — but of the wrong gender for his mission.

The herald supposed his mission could wait.

Elk bowed low to the woman, his nose sweeping the ground. When he stood straight, it was without his burden, and he was free to speak to her. He said,

"Hey."

"Are you from around here?"

She watched him as warm as she had called to him.

He was large and had the cut of a hunter. His coat almost seemed as if he had worked his way through coal. Eyes that seemed so brilliant in that smudged face of his.

Something of a wry smile slipped over her features at his easy greeting after such a formal bow. Charmed or humored — what was the difference, really?

Yes. Born to the land of Moonglow, settled on the Spine that lays along these lands.

She tested the air around him, a delicate sniff as if she might pick up something familiar.

Where have you come from?

His head turned in interest toward the "spine", which was a recognizable enough point of interest in the area. He answered, still gazing off in wonder: "Mountain Home."

His gaze swiveled back toward the woman, attentive once more.

"The place. And Rocky Road, the pack. It's far from here. Warmer. Wetter, too." His own nose twitched as he took her scent in. She didn't smell like she knew a whole lot of eligible bachelors, but he could ignore that, for now. "I'm White Elk, son of Andes."

He did not expect this would impress her, but he was impressed with himself, all the same. He awaited her name with interest, hoping she might reveal more about herself.

She knew not of any Rocky Road, but he seemed impressed with himself in his titles. It was good that he carried those things with him away from home.

Callyope, daughter of Moonwoman and Sunman. Her eyes were warm at how she near mimicked his own introduction. If lineage mattered to him, let her boast her own!

What have you come looking for, son of Andes?

She had asked after his home and now she asked for his goals! It was as if she assessed him for more than just his health.

Moonwoman and Sunman — powerful titles, to be sure! He wondered if he ought to have called Andes something more impressive than his common name, but only for the span of a moment before conversational momentum tugged him along. And, ah! There was the question he'd been hoping for!

"A husband," he said. He tried for bald innocence, but it was clear he was up to something even in the pregnant pause before he laughed, "But not for me. For a daughter of Andes, who is ready now to wed."

He eyed her keenly, too polite to assess, but clearly wishing to do so.

"And what of you, daughter of Sunman?" he asked her, grinning widely to be the focus of her attention, fleeting though it may be. He had learned to let flirtation be its own reward. "Have you come looking for something?"

A husband!

Her eyes twinkled brightly and some burst of shining life seemed to make its way into her. Even more so at his elaboration! You must meet Moonwoman, my mother. She might know the names of those willing to wed a daughter of Andes. She did not tell him the finer details for how all of this worked.

It would be up to Moonwoman to look upon him and decide if he could know.

daughter of Sunman.

She imagined her father would smile grandly to hear her addressed by his title.

I look for many things. Perhaps a husband and a village, if the spirits find it right for me.

Must he? Elk wasn't so sure, but he knew that he would surely like to. In his homeland, these things were done solely through men, so it was Sunman or his sons that he would eventually have to speak to. But Elk's preference was often to speak with women, and he was eager to meet more of Callyope's blood.

"I would love to," he replied, hoping an offer to introduce them might then be extended. Instead Callyope spoke different words, and the herald's brows popped with palpable delight, though he made a good show of playing it cool. He was an easy read, this young man. Not one thought in that pretty head that could not be read just as easily on his coal-smudged face.

His smile then was shy, almost.

"I hope that you find him," he replied, his tone leaving room for himself in the equation. This was not his reason for coming and it was not at all proper for a young lady such as herself to speak of such things without her father present — but he was as enamored with the misbehavior as he was scandalized. What a rebel! "And a kingdom worthy of your name. I admire your ambition."

And truly, he did. To the marrow of his bones. It gave him ideas, which made him sweaty. Or sweaty-adjacent, since he didn't really sweat. There was a sheen to his eyes like he'd just run a very far distance when he asked,

"What would you call it?" with a boyish sort of excitement.

She looked upon him favorably. Warm and bright. She felt she had done a good thing in calling him towards her, that perhaps something beyond had guided them together.

It was the kind of thought born from carefree, wild feelings.

She would not be so quick to think he was meant to be a husband, but her thoughts could fancy him. She could admire his ventures for his sister's and the things he carried with him. She might have hoped she was cunning and stunning enough to steal a thing or two — but she imagined they were meant for his family matters, she would never steal from a thing like that.

Moonsong is the birthright of a moon daughter. Spoken as if her mother's voice moved through her now. Her smile grew more reserved before she spoke again — But it is me who must be worthy of my village, not the other way around.

Moonsong — "That's a pretty name," said Elk, who had never had a thought he hadn't wanted to share with the class. So it was with the same baldness that he said, "I think it's gotta go both ways, don't you?"

He frowned, because he did not like the idea of someone calling Callyope unworthy.

"I think you're already worthy. Worth to try, I mean," he explained. "So I just hope you're village will be trying just as hard. All for one and one for all, as they say."

If this was flattery, it worked to warm her blood further.

If there are many who think like you and are inclined to be so kind to me, perhaps I will not struggle so much.

Did she bat her eyelashes a touch there? If she had, she made no comment of it herself. Instead she stood and moved closer. Close enough to be touched!

She feigned (not entirely, only partially, truthfully) interest in the bundle he had brought with him.

Elk laughed a little; he wished that it didn't seem like a kindness to her, but he found himself charmed all the same by her humility. And he was charmed, of course, by the idea that she was charmed — that was what that smile meant, was it not?

He didn't step forward with her, but neither did he cede any ground as she came nearer, apparently to poke at his package. heh.

"Tokens," he said, lowering his voice now that they stood so close. He didn't want to yell in her ears. "I'm meant to give them to any especially strong and charming men with instructions on how to reach her. That way she'll know that they've been vetted already."

He dipped his head; it came very close to hers. But he only nudged the rolled pelt enough to unfurl it, revealing the priceless feathers within.

"But I am not the only herald running about for her," he said, sweeping a paw toward the selection. "I would like for you to have one. A pretty thing for a pretty woman. You will appreciate it far more than a man would."

Unless the man was him. Elk was a little sorry to part with any of his hard-earned feathers, but he really did want to see one tucked into Callyope's pale fur.

It was noble and kind. Beyond the way she felt he flattered her, he seemed to have a rather genuine task in this. How kind of a brother to assess the husband of his sister!

Admittedly, she had no clue which man might be picked if White Elk asked her mother. Who in the village might be eligible? Who would want to go to see this sister?

These things were why she was not the matchmaker.

Aya!

The closeness, his offer to gift her a feather.

You are giving me something I will keep forever. And she meant this as her tone grew a touch serious. It would be a treasured thing, she would make sure that it stayed in any ulaq she ever made. A piece of him, of his influence and the support he gave her despite their newness.

I will close my eyes. You must pick the one that will become a part of me.

She stole only a glance of him (so close! so near!) before her eyes shut.

A trust placed in him.

She grew serious, but Elk beamed at such a declaration. He'd worked hard to gather these, and he would be pleased if even on retained a place of honor. But, when asked to pick, he made a lighthearted sound of frustration.

"Such a decision may haunt us both!" he told her, but they shared a bright-eyed look before her lashes fluttered shut, and for a moment he could only stand there and think of kissing her. Breathless, he turned his attention back to the feathers. His favorites were what he gravitated to first, but perhaps what he liked best was not automatically suited to Callyope. He studied them for a fleeting moment before selecting the knifelike wing feather of a peafowl. Stark cream and ink black, its striations made it look almost serrated. It was sharp against the gentler backdrop of the spine woman, whom he suspected of having secret steel beneath her grace.

"Here," he said softly, touching it with his paw. "May I?" He made to reach for it with his teeth instead, pausing only to receive her permission to place it in her fur.

Oh but she hoped it would!

A haunting did not always have to be so terrible, did it? If she kept this feather forever as she swore to them both, then this would haunt her.

She could not deny how sacred this all felt! Taboo? She was not certain, but she dared to think it nearly teetered on it. Here away from the eyes of Moonglow. No one would see them partake in this. It could be a fleeting moment for her to indulge selfishly!

Yet he knew where she came from and she knew others would ask when she returned with such a gift.

She only gently nodded her head at his question. Frightened that if she spoke her voice might run away with her thoughts!

The young woman was fully prepared to open her eyes once he was done. As well as ready to show off and flaunt the feather to him! She had never wanted to read another's thoughts as badly as she did now in these moments that followed.

The tips of these feathers were carefully nicked and coated in honey and beeswax. They were costly not just for the effort it took to find and collect them, but for the pain of treating them as well. Like this, however, they could be tucked to the roots of even a thin summer coat and, so long as one was not too vigorous, they would stay. This was the fashion, where he was from, but it was a relatively new one.

He tucked the feather into Callyope's fur as gently as he could before drawing back just far enough to assess her.

"It suits you," he told her, certain of this fact. It looked less like an accessory and more like a beauty mark; something that was naturally upon her rather than contrived. He was rendered mute by it for a long moment, looking his fill.

It was near weightless once it was placed into her fur.

At once it had become a part of her. She had thought it might be a thing to be kept safe in a treasure trove. Instead it was like a fur, worn like an extension of her for the world to see wherever she went. Not just a decoration for those who looked within an ulaq.

"It suits you,"

Simple words but she found she appreciated them more than some extravagant declaration of beauty. She stayed near him still in her heavy state of enchantment.

Wordlessly gazed upon his face with her eyes of amber.

She did mean to lure him, only she did not know what would happen if he accepted this.

The herald's throat felt stopped up by the silence; he could scarcely even swallow in the scant space between them. He wanted to say something clever, but he found that all he could do was stand there with his lips parted and his eyes locked with hers. He had never seen so warm a shade of gold. Heat poured off of her and made his face feel hot.

He leaned closer, as if pulled by gravity, seeming not to realize what he was doing until his whiskers brushed hers. An all-over twitch reeled him back an inch or so.

"My apologies," he said in a rush, choking on the words. He cleared his throat, chagrined, and offered her a contrite but wild-eyed smile. "I forget myself. You..." He hesitated, and his smile became a little more natural, if not still slightly self-deprecating. "Well, it wouldn't do to place the blame on a lady. So I shall say no more."

His eyes twinkled merrily, but he still felt dizzy with her nearness.

Their whiskers mingled and while all of this might have been unbecoming, she found herself too swept up to exactly think beyond it.

It was good that he built space again before she made something of them both. Her wild streak could very well be the downfall of her heart.

A lady as guilty as the man, Perhaps it would have been best to simply allow him to shoulder this. She could not bring herself to let him think this had all been him.

She did not want him to leave over this. Even this little bit of returned distance left her adrift in her whimsy of him.

Will you stay in the area to see the faces here for your sister?

To keep seeing the faces of women here ready to wed too?

His smile grew toothier; it was clear that such a notion pained him. A lady was never guilty, where he came from. Neither was a lady caught with her whiskers so near to someone who was not her husband, however.

"I think that I must," he said, his tone dubious only because he was astounded by how imperative this had suddenly become. He looked at Callyope as if she were the eighth wonder of the world, taking her in all over again. What strange alchemy she practiced! They were surely witches in this place, and White Elk was fascinated by them.

"Will I see you again?" he asked her. He must!

His question warmed her cheeks, but she remained composed. Feigned some sense of bashfulness now as if they had not just been close enough to kiss!

If you find me,

She had told him where she was from, where one of the moon villages laid, but she was not confined strictly to there! In this too she might see if he had a sense of seriousness with this fancy or if she was meant to only think of him when he might return to his family for his sister's wedding.

Will you?

She stood tall and proud now, yet her body had turned away from his, prepared to depart like a ghost in the night.

She teased him! His cheeks puffed briefly in a little laugh — shocked, elated — and he answered her at once:

"Every day, unless you are very careful to avoid me," he said. He vowed, but only in the privacy of his own mind. He gazed at her appreciatively, taking a half step as if to follow.

But he could not go where she was going. She meant now to depart from him, and White Elk could not help thinking that this was probably a good idea. His want for her felt dangerous after the brief moment that they'd shared. If he could not maintain a respectful distance, it was better to test his respect for her virtue only in small doses.

"Tomorrow?" he asked her, his voice still hushed.

feel free to fade/close <3

Tomorrow.

It went without saying that her conditions still stood.

He must find her tomorrow. She gave him no hint to where or what time. If it was meant to be then it would be.