Silverlight Terrace rule number two, just dont get attached to somebody you could lose

for @Wraen since i said i'd throw somethin up! :p all welcome as well~

maybe she shouldn't keep straying so far from bhediyon's will-be claim, but hell if ty doesn't too and hell if wb's ever been good at standing still. maybe she should try moving in a new direction but hell if her fickle heat pulls her southward though she stops herself short when she passes by the glittering quarry. 

briefly she thinks of the little lion boy - wonders what he's been up to since they parted. isn't is so interesting the vastness of these brief connections, woven strands that witchbaby slips between as she recklessly floats away place to place? 

at least she's not thinking of wb will save the shore for another day. night is falling around her, cold and wet; she is a spot of shadow-purpled fur in the moonlit grass, the interiority of herself closed off, even to her.

Wraen had set out to track and chase a hare earlier that evening. It had been a close call, but as the agile rodents usually do - they let you think that you have got them, but few quick swerves later they are out of your reach and after a while out of your sight too. The hunter in question was left disappointed and with sides heaving to catch her breath and calm her racing heart, she walked for a while, grazing the dry grass with her muzzle now and then, to catch any other promising smells.

There were none and by the time Wraen turned to leave for home, she almost missed the unmistakeable scent of a wolfish-another nearby. Curious and also feeling a little defensive of the grounds she considered as her own personal hunting place, she stopped in the middle of the open field and with her head held high, she scanned the looming darkness around her, in order to spot the intruder's form.

she is a shape, a dab of bruised paint on darkened green-gesso'd canvas, letting her thoughts run with no attempts to process them. images of her lost-beloved flit through, snippets of memories and imagined futures, slipping between thoughts of her dear brother and her new future and her left-behind past - it's all too much to bear, so she doesn't.

thankfully fate does not leave her to fester - the winds shift and bring with them the scent of someone new. curiously she dances back, eyes pinkly aglow in the light of the moon. the witch sees the shape, the slim silhouette of a wolf against the sky, though details are obscured in the shadows. her teeth flash a smile. "out for a late night stroll?" she calls in honeyed tones, lightly swaying closer with grin fixed in place.

Wraen jumped, when the other spoke to her and emerged from the darkness (it was just an expression - it was still very dark, the other was  barely visible and only because she had made her presence known), and mentally marked not to mention this to Terance. She was not very good at self-defence training and being caught of guard wouldn't go in the good books either. 

"Hey!" she greeted, taking a few steps towards the other, just to show that she was not that scared. "Perhaps. You too?"

pleased that the girl greets her in turn, witchbaby fluffs up slightly, pink eyes glinting under moonlight. the pitch grants them an anonymity - oh sure, there's details she can make out, the pretty lines of the other's form, the - is that green? tint of her eyes - and she dons it like a cloak, something tight in her chest coming loose. in the moonlight she's not witchbaby haunted by demons, she's wb, the entity born new by the borders of the feather-scented woods. "per'aps," she echoes, voice girlish, and grins into the dark. "ain't been 'round here before but it sure is pretty," the starlet adds, taking a step closer, never so mindful of things like personal space.

closer-still the witch can drink in more detail - the wolf girl is small for her kind, mottled-dark. she can't make out the expression she wears, but maybe she doesn't need to - and she thinks the other probably can't make out hers either. "y'from around here?" she asks, tilting her head with eyes wide-bright, the intensity of her focus on the other.

It seemed that the other one was either not bothered by the close proximity of Wraen, or was using the same tactics in terms of making a good first impression of the other. Whichever was the case, the girl felt a little unsettled by the boldness radiating her way, but decided to not take a step back, which would have been a more comfortable choice in this situation.

Their conversation was all small-talk at the moment and it was hard to decide, whether it should be let to root and shoot leaves, or be cropped at the begining. Because she could not shake off the feeling that the stranger was not, what she appeared to be at the first glance. "M-a-ybe. What about you?"

the starlet giggles, pleased that the other does not retreat from her advance. "ma-a-aybe," she parrots, teasing entirely, tail tip silently swish swishing behind her. the stranger's eyes - green, witchbaby thinks suddenly, pretty-green or maybe blue, so hard to see! and she likes that now, likes this darkness on her like a cloak. "i'm from all over," wb says sugary-sharp, honest in her vagueness, and sighs, "though lately i'm livin' by the sea." strange and lovely the view from the plateau; she's not so sure she's a fan quite yet. (but she doesn't mind stickin' around for now, oh no). 

small-talk only lasts so long. she sighs again and draws to her haunches, eyes casting above to the star-flecked sky. "tell me, stranger, you ever been in love?"

Wraen let out a small laugh, when the other mimiced her earlier manner of speech, but could not yet decide, whether she found it amusing or was a little put off by the fact that there could be a potential psycho standing in front of her. 

"All over is a pretty large area to cover - ain't you a little too small for that?" she asked, tilting her head to the side and offering a the strange girl a thougtful smile. The question that followed, however, surprised Wraen a little and she looked away to hide her bewilderment.

"Do you ask this question to all people you meet? Or you just want to get people to listen and tell about your love-life?"

wb grins, as always pleased by others playing along, and shakes herself out, puffing up. "m'bigger than you think," the coy-girl teases, and laughs as the stranger sees right through her ploy, unbothered. "probably the second," she easily admits, grinning in the dark, "i ain't tryin' to think on it but it's easier talkin' into the dark like this."

sighing dreamily she draws herself up, peering at the stars overhead. when she talks again her voice is soft and slow, a murmur: "you ain't gotta answer me, i'm just lickin' my wounds." it's a silly thing to do, she knows, and what else is she skilled at if not being present? but still the allure of night-sky rumor - of talkin to someone who doesn't know her at all, has no grounds to judge or compare - well, it keeps her from abandoning the subject completely. oh! "call me wb," she adds - names exchanged won't undo totally that comforting anonymity, especially if she just shares her nickname.  

"I can't agree more... they say that, what doesn't match in size, evens out in personality," Wraen teased the other girl good-naturedly, while referring not only to her, but also to herself. She was on the smaller side of the average wolf, but she wanted to believe that her character made the differences in size less relevant. 

"Well, I am always up to stories," Wraen said, genuinely curious about, what the Wee-bee had wanted to tell her. "Tell me yours and I might tell something in return."

wb giggles, the sound light and airy as it floats up between them. oh, but she likes this girl, likes a quick wit and especially one so willing to indulge. right, now how to cast the story just so - she ain't looking for pity, she just wants to swoon and sigh a bit. "her name was kinkajuú," she croons softly into the darkness, eyes flitting closed. "when we met she wore a feather on her head, an angel an' i was done for then-and-there."

the starlet's eyes open - she looks skyward, the star-lights bright in the catches of her pink gaze. "we traveled together, but i'm a restless heart, always sneaking off here or there - never for disloyal reasons, a course, but just to stretch my legs - but there was a storm like i've never seen an' we lost each other." her dreamy-soft voice turns somber, serious, the thunder in her throat. "i looked for months -- an' then we found each other, right over in the field where the fire-bugs fly, like a dream, only it must've been exactly that, a dream, 'cause she disappeared from me again." and this time it wasn't storm, it was kinkajuú's choice - or at least that's what she thinks. "maybe it's to punish me, for leavin' her the first time, for bein' too stupid to say i love you, but -- here i am, girl-less in the starlight."

dramatically she sighs and lets her gaze fall back to the shadowed figure by her, shoulders lifting helplessly - women, right?

Wraen listened to the story carefully, though in her opinion it was a little plain and too dramatic as well, and the inkling that the other wolf was not exactly in her right mind, did not help to raise value of the tale in her eyes. A person, who has grown up surrounded by stories, who has heard so many and nearly them all, has a difficult time finding a new material to listen to. Which would be entirely unique. True was the wise person, who once said that after Greek Myths no one else has ever written an original story.

"Are you sure that she was and always will remain the first and only person you have loved?" Wraen asked, buying time to think about a story she wanted to share.

if the starlet could hear the girl's criticism she would not care for it; originality is banal and besides, if anyone could have seen the way kinkajuú looked in the firefly light ...! but the critique goes unvoiced and so witchbaby remains thankfully oblivious, sighing long and soft at the question. "always the first," she agrees, "but you're right a course -- i'll love again." the coy girl brightens visibly even in moonlight, buoyed by her new companion's reassurances (or what she takes them to be).

On the second thought - what rights did Wraen have to deem someone else's story of less value, especially, if it had happened in real life? She felt sorry the moment the other girl added the words "always the first", which made all the difference. Firsts mattered, whether they were your first love, or first candy, or the first book you ever read, your first hunt or the first conscious memory. They stuck, while all the rest flowed away and was forgotten. 

"It will probably be different, but I hope that, whatever happens, it goes well for you," Wraen told the girl sincerely. 
"For my story I will need your help along the way," she began explaining the rules to her favorite game as a kid, but which was equally exciting and interesting nowadays. "I need you to list five words that first come into your mind."

her eyes brighten, glint in the dark at the question. a game! "firefly," she says playfully, still thinking of kinkajuú, and then, "angel, actor, gift, brother." she grins her crooked grin (only hints of it visible in the darkness) and tilts her head, so so curious -- and respectful enough of the art of the craft to stay quiet 'til next she's prompted.

"Very well, then," Wraen replied, memorizing the five clue words given to her and thinking about them carefully. The process of thinking and imagining can be described with the analogy of seeds sown in the soil. First it takes time for them to sink through the surface, then they begin to root, the first shoots appear afterwards and then - as more time passes by - with the help of water, nutrients in the earth and sunlight they begin to grow. It was the same with the words, each tied to a certain image, impression, smell, sound and meaning. 

And with the first roots the story can begin. "The Forbidden forest is a world of it's own. No one knows, how big it is, where it begins or ends, one thing, however, is certain - that every one has a chance to walk through the invisible veil that parts this world from that of the forest. And that happens without noticing it. It is a home for many creatures - some live their by choice, some have been driven out from other worlds and found a place for them in the forest. And some are wanderers, that have entered the forest unknowingly and walk the vast realms for days, months and years, without realizing, how much time has passed. 

It is also no surprise that the forest is a place for many unusual tales, because so many different characters meet and their paths cross. One of them is about Firefly - a young wolf, who went into the forest to search for and rescue his little brother. The younger sibling had been drawn to the place, after hearing someone singing in the most beautiful voice in the world. And unable to resist the summon of the song, he had wandered away from his family and disappeared in the forest," here Wraen paused looking expectantly at her one-person audience.

"Who do you think drew him in the forest? What was one thing Firefly took with him from his home, when he went to look for his brother?" she asked, waiting to hear the other girl's contribution to the story.

ACK I AM SO SORRY i totally missed this in my threadlog!!

witchbaby'd puzzled out the nature of the game pretty quick but it's still neat to listen to the girl put it all together, twisting her keywords into some fantastic tale. she is not, by nature, a storyteller -- she's an actress, and there is a distinct different. but damn if she ain't appreciate a good storyteller, and lucky for the girl, she's a fantastic audience, all oos and aahs and appreciative active listenin'. 

pink eyes blink under moonlight as the question's turned on her. "oh oh," she chirps, "a bird, all velvety black an singin', an' firefly took ..." hm, "a feather, white and crisp!"

A feather and a bird - very well then... Wraen paused, toying with the offered words, creating impressions and associations, looking for a place, where to weave them in the colorful fabric her story was. It was not an easy task, because she was nowhere as skilled in the art as her mother had been, nor would she ever reach the same profeciency. She lacked the true passion for it, having inherited her father's more down-to-earth attitude regarding imagining and creating things. 

Eventually the only right way was moving forward, even if you did not exactly know, where would it take you. And in the hopes that the story would unfold itself, only if she made those first necessary steps to get the wagon going. "Firefly's mother was a little bit of a witch - she knew the ways and goings of the magic and had once been the inhabitant of the forest as well. Therefore before letting her son on adventure, she gave him a magical feather, saying that as long as he kept it with him, he would always find a way out of the forest. 

Off he went then, eager to face, whatever danger lied ahead and to complete his task as quickly as possible. What he did not take in account was that the forest itself was like one big living, breathing and thinking being and it would not present itself to anyone just because they wanted to see it. Quite contrary - it liked to test people in many ways by leaving clues and pointers and riddles along the way and only those, who were observant enough of these things, would be granted an entrance. 

Firefly did not know this, he missed many opportunities, took the wrong turns and was tricked away, when he had drawn close. Unbeknownst to him the forest was always watching, amused by the determination and foolishness of the young wolf, until eventually he decided to make it easier than it was. By sending a messenger - a pitch black bird that looked similar to a crow. It followed Firefly and, when he was sound asleep, stole the feather from him.

The boy woke up to see the black bird standing mere feet away from him, the feather in it's beak. He wasted no time and went after the sneaky creature, chasing it for a long time, losing track of the miles he had run, the time that had passed and with the bird out of sight, suddenly finding himself in a foreign place. The forest had devoured him without him even noticing. 

Tired and confused he found a rivulet nearby and leaned down to quench his thirst. Then..." there Wraen stopped and looked at Witchbaby, waiting for her to add the sentence that would move the story forward.

what a gift the girl has, able to deftly weave what witchbaby tosses into her tale ! her attention remains rapt, breathless in the night, hmming and aahing in all the right places. if she's not a gifted storyteller, she's a fantastic audience, all wide-eyed attention. then... says the girl and a beat of silence passes, wb hung on the word before she realises - "oh!" she takes a moment and then says, "a winged fish jumped outta the water an' started talkin'!"

A winged fish, eh? Wraen chuckled at the vivid image that came to her mind seconds after Witchbaby had suggested it's appearance in the story. Talking too, well... and what were the other two words she had not yet included in the story? Angel and actor? It was a pity that she recalled the first one only now, because the feather Firefly's mother had given him could fit perfectly with it having come from an angel's wing. Now the opportunity was lost and Wraen was not the person, who would skip back in the story. 

"So... the fish jumped out and much to Firefly's surprise he noticed that instead of fins on the sides it had wings covered in shiny scales that reflected the sunlight in every color of the rainbow. Amazed by the extraordinary sight, he forgot the simple rule that stated - gaping is not polite. And sure fish reminded him about it, by slapping his muzzle with it's tail. 

"Hey, what did you do that for?!!!" exclaimed Firefly. "WHY?!!" the fish yelled in return, "You come here, breach in my home, soil it with dirt and your saliva (when did you last cleaned your teeth???) and ask me - the King and the proud ruler of the riverlands - why you get punished for your disrespect?" Firefly did not know, what else to say, therefore he sat there for a good while, listening to the angry Fish-king, who went on to insult and curse him. "A-a-and IF. YOU. EV..." but the fish did not manage to finish the sentence, because a clawed paw swatted at it and it fell in the water. 

"Gets more annoying every time..." said a sleek black cat with golden eyes. "I am Angel, by the way." It said looking the young wolf up and down. "And who may be you?" In a few well-chosen words the young wolf told his name and his journey. "Good luck with that," the cat said with a sneer. "What the forest takes, it does not return willingly. Nor can you take it by force or cheat it." Firefly was a brave fellow and he was not going to give up just because someone told him that his quest was impossible. Therefore he asked, what could be done, and the cat appeared thoughtful and then said: "I could take you to the..." here Wraen left the thread of the story again, curious to find out, what would Witchbaby add.

the way the girl takes witchbaby's suggestions and weaves 'em in keeps her transfixed -- a mischevious glint comes into her eye, wondering if she can come up with something so challenging wraen can't adapt it. new game in mind, she listens intently, giggling at her vivid descriptions of the rainbow fish. 

hm, hm, how to continue -- "the old witch, a big mean coyote with yellow teeth an' grey fur," she chirps, "only she ain't speak an' only talks in barks and growls." there, that's a challenge!

"So off to the old hag they went. She lived a top a hill, covered in thorny bushes, in a a stone den, made of big boulders. The pair did not meet her right away, because she had flown to do her daily hag business, therefore at Angel's suggestion she and Firefly lied down to have a nap.

Some hours later Firefly awoke only to find that his companion was nowhere in sight. Not a single track or trail had been left behind and he realized he could not even remember the cat's smell. But there was no time to be worried for long, because a horrible noise, compiled of screeching, cackling, howling and barking, echoed in the forest and suddenly - wham! - the coyote-witch was standing in front of him, baring her yellowy teeth and growling at him menacingly.

The young hero was taken aback at first - we all would, if we met the coyote witch in a dark, lonely forest, but he soon regained his composure and told her, why he was here. Though witch did not say a word, she listened and she seemed to understand, therefore she turned to her home and beckoned him to follow. 

Once there, the witched tossed him a dried rabbit's foot and settled down to eat herself. Suspicious a little, but hungry more, Firefly picked it up and ate it. He hardly remembered, what happened next, only that the next morning he awoke not as a wolf, but as a jay. The witch was nowhere to be seen, neither was her home - he had been sleeping in an unknown area of the forest.

It took Firefly some tries, before he mastered the art of flying, and soon he was soaring through the forest, covering more miles than he would have on the foot, until he arrived to a place, where all kinds of creatures camped together. And among them he spotted the white pelt of his brother. 

Joyous about the discovery, Firefly flew over to his newly-found sibling and landed on his shoulder. He chirped and cawed to make his presence known, but the young wolf did not even turn to look. Confused, our hero flew over to see his brother's face and was struck by the blank look in his eyes. He was under a trance and a quick look around confirmed that the same thing had happened to the rest of the folk.

Who do you think did this and why?" Wraen stopped and gave Witchbaby and opportunity to dab something in to the story.

witchbaby giggles imagining the scene (she'd quite like to be an old coyote-witch herself, an' put a fright into those that dare go near her, all for show of course). despite the length of the story she's still hooked, waiting to find out the rest, waiting for wraen to pause and ask for her input even as it gets trickier: "angel did it," she decides, always a sucker for a good heel turn, "'cause he needs somethin' from 'em."

"Exactly. A commotion nearby made Firefly wary, therefore unwillingly he left his brother and sought a hiding place in a birch tree that was growing nearby. Imagine his surprise, when he spotted Angel - the cat he had met the day before - but now as big as a wolf with a little coyote-cub in tow. He took him to a huge rock with a flat surface, picked the scared cub up and put it there.

Then she fixed it with her gaze and murmuring magical words, drew a shining, little, silvery orb from the cub. It hovered in the air briefly, then Angel snatched it and went away. The victim, however, collapsed in a lifeless heap. Worried about, what he had just witnessed, Firefly flew over to the little thing to examine it and saw that it was still breathing, it's heart was beating, but the eyes wore the same glassy expression her brother did. 

Curious to find an explanation to, what had happened, he followed Angel into a dark underground tunnel. After a lot of twists and turns they arrived to a huge cave, lined with ice blocks, shards and icicles and in the middle there was a lake. The cat touched it's icy surface with the paw, it melted a little and she urged the shiny orb there.

Firefly waited until the cat left and until he was sure that no one else was watching or guarding the place. He flew to the lake and saw that under the ice there were thousands of shimmering lights fluttering and moving. He had no idea, what Angel had done or why, but he had a suspicion that there, under the ice were the souls or the life essence of all the creatures outside and he realized that, if he was to save his brother, he had to set them free. 

But how? The ice was hard as stone and after few tries it was clear that it would take him forever to break the cover. And, who knew, how much time the soulless animals outside had got? Therefore he waited for Angel's return, which happened three days later. All this time - though hungry and tired, Firefly had explored the huge cave from one corner to the other and returned to the lake many times. 

He waited, until the cat touched the lakes surface with it's paw, and then swooped down, aiming for it's eyes. He dug his claws in the cat's face and pecked at it with his beak ferociously, while the cat was roaring in pain and thrashing around. Firefly did not have much strength and he knew that he was not going to hold on for much longer, but suddenly odds were in his favor. The blinded cat, tripped and fell in the lake, it's warm body, melting the ice around it. 

Firefly let go just in time to see the souls breaking free from their prison and finding their way through and out of the caverns. He did not wait to see, if the cat was dead or alive, with only his brother in mind, he flew as fast as his tired wings could take him through the tunnel and out in the clearing, where the animals had stood. There - an amazing change had happened - it was buzzing with life and among the freed animals he saw his brother - a little confused, but free," here Wraen stopped, exhausted from the mental effort it took to cook the story. 

"There is more about Firefly's and his brother's adventures - but that is another story, for another time," she concluded. "If we ever meet again, I will tell you the rest."

Fade out in your next post?

sounds good!<3

the next part wraen delivers is long but enticing nonetheless, witchbaby scooting closer to listen. "so clever," she praises, a little sad to hear their story-session has ended but --  oh, what a fickle thing fate is, and perhaps she will get to hear the rest another day! "thank you," witchbaby adds graciously, giving a lupine curtsy, "for  sharin' your storytellin' art with me. i hope we meet again!"

and with that the scarlet shadow picks up her paws and makes her way back into the world, letting wraen's words float in her brain for days to come.