Duskfire Glacier too late to stop
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#1
All Welcome 

the sun is warm, this high up. days ago she had been forced to eat the dried muskox she had brought for her sister; upon failure of finding her. she thinks fondly of @Rala now, her eyes lingering over the edges of the rise she finds herself upon.

it was empty here. only the faintest traces of wolf to tell her there had ever been others here. the pudgy woman turns and begins to walk along one of many ridges, paws gentle upon ice, careful so that she does not slip. she is used to terrains like these.

it almost feels like home.
Baskaan *
Even when I'm not with you,
there's only you.

xaden riorson in onyx storm
234 Posts
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#2
faust had found the place more than adequate. with walls of mountains, snow in the center of it's bowl, he could see a future of what his estranged father had always wanted to build. an empire.
a wafting scent had him distracted, however, and he was called to the woman before he knew what took over him. she stood there, body rounded with fat, and his lip curled at the thought of her already being taken to wife.
he said nothing, coming into her view, lifting his leg to piss on a tree in front of her. his. his territory.

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— “pyrrhalic;“ · common; ·understands apsáalooke minimally.
a dragon without its rider.
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#3
honey eyes flicker with curiosity as eyes fall upon a dark beast. of great stature, littered in scars; others notably newer than the rest. driven by unknown emotions, the woman comes to a slowing halt, a forepaw lifting instinctively at the sight.

of strength. of brawn.

raw masculinity.

she finds her cheeks blushing at the sight. his leg lifting to spray piss upon a tree, no doubt marking his claim. suddenly she finds herself looking around, tasting the scents upon the air, in search of something she might've missed. she had been under no impression of occupation.

she must have been wrong. so, gently, she turns half her face from the man, a single eye remaining lingering on the beast. should he approach, she was the picture of femininity.
Baskaan *
Even when I'm not with you,
there's only you.

xaden riorson in onyx storm
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#4
she responded how any woman should at the sight of his claim. naivety may have won her today, but it is he who is triumphant as she looks away in raw submission. it tempers him for the time being, perceiving her as less of a wandering threat.
he approaches her. she wavers in the cool air, a beacon of divinity of her sex. with a nose to her neck, he inhales for the sign of a man around her, though he is lingering in surprise when there is none. a good hunter, was she then?
what does woman seek? voice clad with a chill as much as the icicles had that dangled from the pine needles.

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— “pyrrhalic;“ · common; ·understands apsáalooke minimally.
a dragon without its rider.
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#5
she is stiff as the man assaults her neck with his nose. inhaling her scent, greedily. tiqiak tentatively reaches for his with her own brown nose, sniffing at his scent, and finding joy pooling in her belly at what she smells.

he is strong. so strong. and tiqiak is not as independent as her sister; she was a good hunter, but she did not come close to rala's strength. she was what a woman should be. soft, plush, obedient. her tail is lowered amongst her hocks as she avoids the masculine's gaze, but when he demands words of her, she obliges.

nothing. her voice is like honey fresh from the source, dripping from her tongue. she is suddenly insecure of herself, sinking in, chin brushing the thick fur of her chest. i am— her eyes flicker to his, before dropping to the ground quick as they came.

wandering.
Baskaan *
Even when I'm not with you,
there's only you.

xaden riorson in onyx storm
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#6
she returns his nosing with her own chocolate bud. he allows her, take it, until he pulls away and it is enough for her to make her own judgement. there hadn't been many scents clinging to his coat, save for satori and ayovi, though distantly faint.
she does not seek anything in particular. a shell, waiting to be filled. jaw becomes tight with tension as he thinks, wondering if she could be someone he'd caress beneath his blackened wings.
woman no good for wandering, he utters out. women, alone, often find themselves in the reaches of danger. would she find that here, standing before a warden of the north? faust could not answer— a beast far too unleashed.
stay here. forges of vetrheim. we build.

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— “pyrrhalic;“ · common; ·understands apsáalooke minimally.
a dragon without its rider.
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#7
she looks up at the man with gentle eyes and finds herself nodding. an open invitation, one she can't bring herself to deny. mostly for fear of what he might do if she did tell him no. her tail swishes now, perhaps a bit more eager to indulge in him.

what is your name? she asks, swallowing the nerves that had collected upon her like frost in the deep of winter.

she sees fit to offer hers before he can reply, finding it only proper. i am tiqiak. she says gently. of muskox grounds.
Baskaan *
Even when I'm not with you,
there's only you.

xaden riorson in onyx storm
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#8
she accepts. good. he would have probably mauled her if not, but there's no telling what his anger could muster. there was a familiarity in her scent that he couldn't place, as if he'd been in this same position before with a similar woman. he brushed it away.
faust, he answered her, eyes trailing over her mahogany robes once more. you are still from there? he asked, almost correcting, as she was not. he did not care where she came from. she belonged here now.
muskox.
ox hunters? he wished to confirm. maybe she was a hunter afterall, though her build told a different, gentler story.

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a dragon without its rider.
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#9
she laughs, gently, then at his correction. hiding her face from view with a bashful blink of eyes. no, no— she says quietly, then when she speaks next, her voice is louder.

she must be confident. she can sense this man does not like weakness.

i was of muskox grounds. now, here. a smile.

she finds the courage to waltz past the man, paws carrying her over sleet and stone, honey eyes turning upwards to look upon the rest of the rise. vetrheim. the forge. her home now, she supposed? she glances back at the black beast.

they hunted muskox. big, fierce beasts. only the strong can bring down. she tells him. you could, i'm sure. a big man. she looks over him approvingly.
Baskaan *
Even when I'm not with you,
there's only you.

xaden riorson in onyx storm
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#10
content enough with her answer, he lets it go. she will be of new lands come morning, beneath his own leadership. no more forsake oxen hunters. they will hunt better prey, a surplus of it.
her admiration was clear— and placed correctly. he was a mighty hunter, bred of...well, what he assumed to be a stronger father. not as though he known the man, fleeting from his birth alongside his sister, coincidentally taking the third sibling right along with him. were they not good enough for the bastards eyes?
but now— look what he is going to build! alongside this woman, satori, and many others that would follow his hunter's march.
yes, he nodded. we hunt only the great beasts. what else would they have— rabbits? voles?
that would not suit the belly of a king.
come, tiqiak. i will show you home.

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a dragon without its rider.
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#11
good news! she smiles, softly, a thing that hardly reaches her honey eyes. she is content to follow after the man, tucking close her reservations. her tail soft, twitching occasionally, swiping amongst her blacklegs; a nervous habit.

the man takes her along the ridge. to areas she had not gotten a chance to explore before he'd found her. she hadn't meant to be nosy, she truly had no idea she was trespassing! but the further they go, the more she notices places that carry no scent.

she was beginning to realize that he was only just now setting up his claim. that soothed her, a bit. she wasn't a criminal!

what do i call you? she tilts her eyes to look up at the great, hulking man. i know you are faust. but a title?
Baskaan *
Even when I'm not with you,
there's only you.

xaden riorson in onyx storm
234 Posts
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#12
faust glanced down at her, his expression unreadable for a moment. the wind ruffled through his dark fur as they moved, tracing the edges of the ridge where the land stretched far below them. his claim was young, but it would hold. he would ensure that.
grand warden, he said simply, the title carrying weight, spoken like a vow. his duty was clear—to protect, to secure, to make certain no harm would come to what was his.
his eyes flicked back to her, watching her movements, the way she tucked her reservations close. you were lucky, he remarked, not unkind, but firm. wandering where you don’t belong doesn’t always end in good news.
but she was here now. his decision. his responsibility. the ridge had room for more hands, for those willing to learn its ways. but she would prove herself. they all would.

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— “pyrrhalic;“ · common; ·understands apsáalooke minimally.
a dragon without its rider.