Noctisardor Bypass schalten

though they had come across the taiga to settle in a land chosen by mahler's own heart, their future could not be assured. kaster had faded almost as soon as he had come; the pack existed now with only two men in it. 
and the shadowpriest had surrendered the ghost of his own future. now he would live to see his children live on: thade, phaedra, elke, ciri, astraeus — he treasured them all, and hoped that his quieting years might bring grandchildren.
perhaps there was something to be done in rivenwood about such? two young women who wished children, and one young man who had proven himself in his willingness to attend a skirmish and take the land.
mahler walked slowly, pondering.

while praimfaya hadn't been particularly happy about packing up the den she'd made moderately comfortable and as plush as the wilderness would allow her and moving it skin by skin and bundles of dried flowers ( though what purpose other than they looked nice and she liked their colors they served she couldn't say ) to legion where she found a bigger den than the one in the boulder ...she was happy for their victory. the scrimmage had sated her need for battle, for blood. it wasn't the saints and it wasn't vengeance for any slight committed against her ...but it worked it's charm all the same.

the saints could wait.

she had desires that she would see fulfilled first. children. leadership. whichever of those happened to come to her first; though children was on a strict timetable lest she be forced to wait another whole year while the other she could stand to be a bit more patient for.

mahler! she chuffs out his name in greeting, drawing nearer to him as she realizes their paths had crossed.

"praimfaya." mahler waited as the young woman made her approach. it had of course occurred to mahler that their little band had been through several too many moves, and that this land would not inspire the same sort of love.
he thought of diaspora now, surprisngly. or perhaps not so, given his propensity to think forever on such things.
blodreina — no, he had not forgotten her name, or that she was mother to the fierce youth who stood before him now. how things had changed. how old he had become. 
"diaspora vas nomadic," he told praimfaya softly, deciding to delve into those memories. "i suppose coming here vas its own homage to that time."

he greets her and when she takes the fact that he waits for her to reach him as an invitation that her presence isn't unwanted. she falls into step a beside him, paying painful amounts of attention to her pace and ensuring that it does not entirely match his. she might've been promoted a few times since her second chance ...but she was not his equal. at least, not here. not on his turf. she does not necessarily find the silence uncomfortable as they walk but her attention shifts to him, the swivel of the ear closest to him in his direction, the glimpse at him from the corner of frostbound gaze as he speaks.

he speaks, to her surprise, of diaspora.

the name resonates within praimfaya. home. the landslide. blodreina's death. roangeda. the resting place of both her mother and her father. some of the memories sparked to light in her mind at its mention were good; warm. most were cold and painful.

arrow lake was unkind to us. she says, on the topic nomadic. perhaps, if they hadn't stayed so long stigmata and blodreina ...and ingram would all still be alive — but she stifles that before it can take root. it happened and there was no going back. only forward. it makes sense, praimfaya considers after a few moments. follow the migrations. relocate where the resources are bountiful.

praimfaya's inner machinations remained a mystery. the impression he received from knowing her military lineage was the aloof front presented to those around her. opaque glass walls. and mahler suspected the interaction between them, before the move from sawtooth mountain to taiga peak, had contributed.
it was the last time he had seen praimfaya unguarded in that way, and he carried a seed of regret for it.
but she had returned, had grown into the more girlish proclamation of commander. it was the iron beneath her impulsiveness that had made mahler consider this one alongside stag for leadership.
the thought of stigmata's boy tightened the gargoyle's jaw.
"vhen i vas a younger man, i roamed in that vay. i traveled many places here in these vilds. and i meant to claim this very place for my own. there vas a pack nearby vith a very young leader. ve fought. i drove them out." no matter what had truly gone on, the event of their departure followed too closely his own success in battle for the man to believe otherwise. "after that, diaspora. but my love for this place never left me in the years that have passed."
"and so i come back here, i think, to settle into the ground, praimfaya," mahler said directly. she would see in the heaviness of his body and the honed lines of his practiced figure that he was capable, and did not invite challenge. but, and he hoped this silently to himself, that the girl would hear the implication of it. not now. but in a moment for which he meant her to be ready.

praimfaya is quiet, contemplative as mahler shares him reminiscing with her. there is so much history, so many individual histories that weave together to make a whole different side that she'd never been told about ...but of course. blodreina had spoken of sleeping dragon and drageda at length because it was what she had known. ingram ...hadn't spoken of his home and it was with a twist of regret that praimfaya knows she will never have the chance to ask him. where she came from on his side is a mystery she might ever discover.

my mother was like that, praimfaya admits then. tied to the land, tied to her people. she left because of me, because the brewing hostilities between drageda and the sound was a danger to me. and in a way, draws with it the guilt of it all. it settles like a familiar weight upon her shoulders. i am tied to my people, those i was born to and those i come to call my kru but ...never land. she cannot entirely sympathize.

she was pragmatic and far from sentimental on her worst days.

for a moment she is silent as she considers the meaning of his words; very decisively put. she is unsure if he means settle it for good or die here. how do you mean? she asks quietly, hesitantly; thinking that if he meant 'to die' she would argue that he wasn't that old and still had plenty of good years left.

"i mean that i will not be leaving this place again," mahler intoned softly, "no matter vhat rivenvood decides, or vhat form it may take." for a moment he hesitated, for such bare admissions were simply not done in the hierarchy of their kind. it opened far too many vulnerabilities, and the difficulty of that was not for such young shoulders to carry.
but mahler himself had wearied of dragging it behind himself, the mouldering bearskin weight of leadership or the continued yearly decisions he must make for the good of them all. he had become skilled at it,  honed, the bearing of a leader in every step. mahler understood thoroughly the importance of his person, for that was the burden of it all.
the lavender eyes came to rest upon praimfaya again. "it is not only land. it is a home. vhen your people are happy," he went on, choosing to reflect the girl's words upon herself, "it is because they have found a home. i have had many homes. it vas important to put down roots, and important to know vhen to draw them up." 
feeling as though he were lecturing her now, the insistent rambling of a man attempting to impart wisdom where there was not the shared experience. praimfaya was quick, fierce, and practical; he felt now that she must let inside her heart the ability to see the pack through the eyes of each wolf. he blinked, turned his stare away. "this is my home. i do not mean to leave it behind a second time. vhatever the future holds for rivenvood, there vill come a time vhen i am no longer part of that vision, not by death but by choice."