Raven's Watch In his corpse lies the seat to his soul.

For @Stjornuati

He had not lingered for long after besting the silverwhite who'd emerged from the willow trees to challenge him, though he had delivered his mark throughout the territory as he slipped between it's strange foliage. Rökkvi made sure to press his ashen flank to several of the trunks as he went, paused here and there to cock his leg and urinate on the bark or exposed roots. By the time he reached the other side, he was quite satisfied.

He peered over a black-grey shoulder as he exited on the other side of Sundance's claim, gilded stare searching the forest for any sign of others who might've taken offense to his disrespect of their land. Let them come, Rökkvi mused to himself with a sneer, a curl of his lip in disgust, but his patience was quick to run dry. After only a short time of loitering in the hope of another pack wolf's arrival.

Still, he hungered for action. His altercation with the platinum youth had barely begun to whet his appetite for a fight, so imagine his joy to happen across the pungent aroma of exactly the wolves he'd been searching for.

Brothers. Sister.

At last: formidable sparring partners.

Rökkvi paused, gaze lifting to take in the sights. They'd done well to take the watch as their own, and it brought him great satisfaction to know how close it was to Sundance's woodland. He thought how easy it would be to drive the faerie wolf and his kin out into the wilds, and twitched a whisker in anticipation of that day.

He did not care to howl for his brothers' attention, too arrogant to think they would reject his call to live among them once more. Instead, Rökkvi began to ascend the slopes in search of them, reinforcing their helm with his own mark as he went, and an eagerness in his stride to make up for lost time.

His mood was sour, embittered by the betrayal of his sister and her plaything. The respect he had maintained for Kigipigak was gone, well and truly, while the love he held for his sister was colored with hurt and betrayal. His recount of the events to @Solpallur made nothing better, either, the weight growing heavy upon his shoulders. He knew, of course, that leading was no easy task, that there would always be those that would seek to undermine and usurp, but he had not expected it from his sibling, however naive that made him.

It was a lesson well learned, now, and a lesson that he carried with him as he sought out another sibling who had seemingly appeared from nowhere. Had Rökkvi come to betray his blood as well, or was he here to support and assist? Stjornuati withheld his assumptions, knowing that anger and bitterness colored them now, and instead loosed a low chuff at the backside of his brother, calling his attention to him now.

It didn't take long for one of his brothers to locate him, and Rökkvi rotated a dark lobe at the sound of approaching paws from behind. He paused in his stride to allow the pale brute venture closer while he looked over a peppered shoulder, his own expression calm and cool despite the inner joy he felt to look upon Stjörnuáti's face again.

Rökkvi had always been quietly envious of this elder sibling's solid bond with Solpallur, the one who he had shared a womb with, and recalled how jealousy had begun a natural rivalry between them in their youth. As they'd aged, however, that competition had dwindled, and while the ironborn would forever harbour some bitterness for the place of lesser value he'd found himself in, he had long learned where his loyalty lay.

The hringja had led him to follow Stjör and Sol all this way, had it not?

Golden eyes studied his brother silently, and shifted his weight to better scrutinise him. He didn't look overly pleased to see him, and Rökk had expected as much, but there was something off about his dull expression that suggested darker thoughts.

"What?" Rökkvi lifted his chin to tease, "no welcome party?"

You missed it already. I threw one yesterday and you never showed. The paler brother answered, his expression stony despite the joke he attempted. Remaining distant yet, Stjornuati studied the sturdy sentinel much the same as his brother studied him, trying to suss out if there was anything there that he should be concerned over. Then again, Rokkvi had always been straightforward and cutthroat. There was no room within him for the conniving ways of their shared sister.

Thoughts sorted, the aspiring leader strode forward to butt his head against Rokkvi's in welcome and appreciation. It is good to see you, brother.

Stoic, as always. Cool and collected, with a dry sense of humour that Rökkvi himself had always carried. To look at the pair of them together, one would likely not know that they were siblings, but their small similarities were known only to those who knew them best.

The ironborn regarded his comment with an amused huff of breath, a smoky plume from each nostril in the crisp Winter air. He didn't have anything else to say on the matter, so moved to welcome Stjörnuàti as the gilded sibling reached to bring their crowns together. With a dip of his own raven-tipped muzzle, Rökkvi pressed his forehead firmly in a brief acceptance of his affection. 

"Likewise," he answered gruffly, eager to be rid of the vulnerability he felt in sharing that sentiment. He carried on: "so this is it?" Yours. Ours. He stepped aside to better regard his brothers' assumed dwelling with an upward tilt of his chin to look upon the higher slopes, satisfaction in the gleam of his pale eyes.