Deepwood Weald ᵇʷᵖ ilyë mahalmar ëa?

For @Cassandra!
Referencing this later

A gasp is smothered from behind shorn lips;
it does not occur to her until it's too late, until she has reached the point of no return, that she is staring: moonfull eyes beneath the red-rent ruins of once-lovely features for the seething colossus is unlike anything she has ever seen before. It glisters in the misted cascades of late morn, and in the soft hush, the stricken had only just risen from where she'd lain like ophelia. Great that is he, mottled; sifting underfern and even as he is so other Andraste cannot make sense of this; cannot enquire of it. 

It watches her.
She watches it.
Koaron, her mind murmurs.

She longs to touch this unearthen but she will not, even long after the pair had parted. There is much that lurk in these mists; and she can no more discern that previous encounter than she can bring herself to lord over it all.

Instead, she wends her way through the Weald she means to settle; but it is a half-hearted forage, muted by all that has occured in this past fortnight or so. Stampede, a strike ... and all that she longs for is simple: she is striving for the first, but cannot strive after the second. Nevermind the wildling within that harkens, wants to quest o'er trembling earth for the one who shrouds her dreams; tormentor!

If reign she is to do, then she surmises now that—I am a shepherd to my people.

Big paws made their way over gnarled roots and the uneven terrain of the weald. Form blurring along the lines of her pure white fur to fit the foggy atmosphere, the wraith continued her way forward with careful steps. Forward towards the glacial area she had seen earlier that day. Cassandra did not mind the humid and eerie air that penetrates these woods but she does prefer the cold sting of glaciers and snow, thus her first intend was to find a place she might call home again at some point. She was a bit worried about losing her way though. She might not mind this place but everything looked the same and she could not peer between the trees to make out the lands of ice she had seen. She hoped her paws and instincts would guide her to the right path.
 
When the female first arrived on this land, she noticed the abundance of other wolves, nothing like her homeland. She wondered if these wolves actually conversed with each other or if fights were a daily occurrence. She was used to fights and even revealed in them sometimes but would not miss having to constantly fight over ones food. Even now she could smell faint scents of others. One in particular striking out from between the fog filled trees in front of her. Her body stopping, icy gaze shifting, she spotted another. Fur the same color as hers but the body not as stout and instead petite and gauntish she assumed the other to be female.
 
Her eyes following the other female, she did not make a move instead peering at her from a distance. The other seemed deep in thought almost mindlessly walking along her path. She seemed troubled but the wraith was not one to stick her nose into other people’s business, at least not if she doesn’t assume them worthy to receive her meddling. Her head lowered she released a low huff to alert the other of her presence however. She would need to cross these woods and would prefer to do so without angering the local pack if there was any. With all the scents shifting in the wind she was not sure that one lived here, in her home land there weren’t a lot of different packs and thus the scents were usually condensed to the pack area. But here……too many scents to discern if there was a group or a pack of wolves living in this area.

tiny phone post, sorry for the wait ;a; <3

A huff;
the announcement seemed to lie on deafened ears for some time; yet though her spirit sailed from her to coax her figure about, it wasn't until she shivered as one with the mists almost entirely that the sticken's fault was finally addressed; only when she had hauled herself from the haze in her head was the course rerouted, arrowing back towards the argent who has called her.

Without preamble, she eventually came to regard the pillar of wolfess before her by way of a dovelike cant to her shorn skull.  "Greetings. I am Andraste."  A lull of consideration, a faint knitting of brows ... then:  "What is it that you seek in ze Weald of my wolves?"  Refuge from the earth's shudderings, perhaps? Though even the loam here underpaw was amutter, the ruined regent was patient with what-ever this wanderer wished to say.

Totally okay. Life can get hectic sometimes, I should know. :P

 
For a while the other female did not react and for a second the bearish wolf was unsure if she should speak aloud. The other arctic wolf seemed to be deep in thought, even continuing her way without taking notice of the sound she made. The other seemed mysterious almost as if fitting in this foggy area. Before Cassandra could continue her observation however, the she-wolf finally turned to her and regarded her.
 
A small tingle raced along Cassandra’s back. Something was…..off with the other, not in a bad way but it made Cassandra cautious of her words and actions. She could not tell what it was so off-putting however. Maybe it was the other’s demeanor and appearance? While having been called a wraith herself more than once in her homeland, this other female certainly also had a ghostly appeal. Scars littered her body, the most prominent the ones on her back that looked like roots taking over her body. What must have happened for her to receive such a wound?
 
Whatever might have happened, it was not Cassandra’s place to question and thus she kept her thoughts to herself. Only when the other introduced herself as Andraste and asked for the reason of her own being ghosting through this weald did she reply “Greetings, my name is Cassandra” her head bobbed in a nod “I do not seek anything here, I was merely hoping to pass through. I had seen an area of ice and was headed there. It seems though, that this is a harder path to walk than I first thought.” and slowly took a few steps closer to the other so they would be able to talk in a more natural volume of a conversation. She took note of Andrastes’ words ‘Weald of my wolves’ and added “I am sorry if I have trespassed, I could not tell if this was a claimed land.” and lowered her head in something akin to a bow. Cassandra usually wasn’t a creature of many words and less ones that were polite and regal but for now she would try to keep up a good appearance until she knew the wolves and packs living in this land more.

tiny post bloop

Cassandra—
prophetess, yes. Seeking, too, a way through this Weald;
and were the stricken indeed made blind with heavensfever, as her desecrator had been, she might have wisped:
Are we not all stumbling to sight our path?
But, no: she was no fanatic, and so such did not fall from torn lips. She had not surrendered the remenants of what sanity could not be struck from her; and neither did she portend such a damning day to a deity and more.

No, her atonement was as godless as this encounter was fateless— 

"There is nothing to forgive,"  graced she, a phantasm of a smile.  "Mine and myself seek to claim these hinters, yes; it is a bit of a labyrinth, I will admit. Though,"  and at this lull she turned, sidelong, inviting the wanderer with a considering tilt of her rubied crown,  "I would be gladdened to help you upon your passage. And, ah, ze place you speak of — I believe it is called Moonsong."

Andraste’s reply didn’t come immediately and made Cassandra yet again wonder what the other was thinking about. Most of the wolves she had known in her home land weren’t as thoughtful of the answers they would give. Brash and rather direct was more like it. A normal conversation, like this one for example, had been rare and far between. Most were just out to survive and that left little to time for pleasant conversations.
 
Then Andraste finally replied. She would show the warrior the way towards the ice land she had seen; Moonsong it was called. What a fairytale name for an area of the land. In her homeland the different areas didn’t have names. Mostly though, because everything looked around the same. The only areas that had names were the pack territories and even then it was just names after the pack living there. “I would appreciate it, thank you.” and she followed the other female, hoping to finally arrive at the land of ice. Thinking about her homeland made her miss it quite a bit. Not like there was really anything happy about her past but she grew used to the lay of land, the temperature and the dangers. Her body was missing it, if not her brain.
 
Not much for words, the warrior left the conversation die at this point. Thus, it was probably set out to be a quite walk for them, if Andraste wouldn’t initiate another conversation.

agh hope this makes sense

A simple nod; a humbled gesture;
and one that has her staring at heavenward at heartfire; gobbling, undiminished. As much as the silver would like to pursue a perch to better observe such phenomena, as much as she would like to continue to gaze in wonder ... her guest must be guided from here, first. She will not be forgotten.

Yet still the skies do not bleed into themselves as they usually do; vaguely, the starseeker's mind threads back to whispered fable of earthembers, and how they would make bronze the cherished blue.

Is this such a one?
And, should it be so, has it yet to sift the webweak weavings between all constellations?

Not a word leaves her shorn lips — not yet. Not as she stumbles through a stubborn knot of sedge that coaxes her to remain here. And even though the little lanterns within her skies cannot mend the severence of her soul, one glimpse upon the lurking Cassandra reminds her that she is here; would always be, for those of her Court.

All she can think as to enquire: "What do you think has made ze sky so ... ?" So terrible a fascination?

Two set of paws made their way along the path they have chosen. Step after step they got closer to Cassandra’s destination. The walk was mostly silent except for the sounds around them. Both did not see the need to talk much. It was not an awkward silence however. At least not to the hulking female.
 
Though her body was made for war and conflict, her steps were sure, careful and quite. With paws as big as hers, it was a wonder that she did not produce more of a disturbance. That is what she has become, a weapon to be feared. Silent but deadly if wanted but no. The female shook her head. The past stays the past. The future waits.
 
He gaze was drawn back to the female in the lead when she asked a rather bizarre question. Cassandra’s gaze was calculating for a second, trying to determine if the question had some hidden meaning. However, she did not find any and turned her gaze upwards to the sky. Ember greeted her and she snorted. “Ah. Looks like wildfire, except up in the sky. These rumblings in the earth…..it seems like the sky got taken too by whatever phenomenon is happening in this land.” she replied with a deep timbre. As if the earth and now the sky were angry at something or someone. Cassandra hoped that the anger would diminish as this land looked like a good one to settle down otherwise.

sorry for the late reply, no rush <3

And neither could the stricken ask for the skies to cleave once more and wrench away what they had brought upon her; neither could she ask to return to all of those early hours of her idling away mothering; neither could she have— 
the very same heavens, gobbled up by whatever had exhumed itself from the bowels of the earth. In the coming fortnights, ash would drift from the clouds, and she might mistaken it for sullied snows. 

"You sound very assured in your assumption,"  she mused, though not at all rueful; the faint quirk at the corner of shorn lips spoke for itself. And though they indeed tread nearer to where mists and timbers alike thinned, she could not help but enquire further:  "In ze norths of my whelphood, my emerwen once told me that there are mountains, with great mouths which breathe forth ... red into ze skies, but ... there were never those sorts of makings where I lived. Not that I knew of, at ze very least."[/hover]  Could the present rouging of the clouds truly be such an occurrence?

She was never sure;
but Andraste looked to the great she-wolf all the same, considering what she previously told her:  "I do miss my norths ... and ze cold, as well, truth be told."

The flame-touched fae, charcoal mask turned towards fading sky, had been seeking out the polar wolf for some time now. There were things she wanted to know about the Court since she had decided to accompany the small flurry of wolves that had all decided to follow Andraste.

It was in the wilderness where they first met that she found her, another unfamiliar face accompanying her -- perhaps another recruit? She wondered how large the court might grow. Andromaque had high hopes for the rag-tag group of wolves she found herself in.

"Andraste," she greeted with a tip of her head -- a bow to her queen. "I was thinking of organizing a hunt," Andromaque began. The cold was upon them, prey meager and scrawny. "Do you think anyone would join me?"

spoke oocly abt wrapping this up, thanks for threading w/ us cass <3

The stricken had on the means to direct the imposing northerner ever onward, but did not get any further than the mouthing of a syllable; for one of her Courtiers soon arrived, with an enquiry and an invitation. A glance of hesitation to Cassandra; but soon decided to guide both she-wolves from the mists, through the trampled, barren pasture, and eventually hither and thither they arrived to the very same glacier where she had first met Andromaque.

With well-wishes and murmurings of good fortune, the willow-wisp returned her focus to the firebrand, and the pair soon returned to their Weald, to discuss and dispense a party for hunting.