Altar of Twilight but god, all I ever do is feel

aware of hydra's decree — that wolves of moonspear were not to step toe out of territory without company — praimfaya, still partially on her victory high, while acknowledging the logic behind it — assumes that so long as she does not stray too far from moonspear's borders; should be fine. it was upon her patrol of said borders, as night stole across the sky and the sugarsweet beams of moonlight touch upon the rock wall of the altar; the vale is cast in an ethereal glow. naturally, praimfaya finds it aesthetically pleasing.

wanting to be amidst the moon glow, she ventures into the vale; cautious. though chilly, the night is clear and quiet; still almost. praimfaya's frostbound gaze is keen, one ear towards the spear's borders at her back, while the other pivots; listening for any footfalls besides her own.

Following Hydra's alert, Dragomir took to the borders on frequent patrols, but didn't set foot outside the territory. Maybe it was a little sycophantic of him, but he'd never been the type to break rules. He was pleased to note the increased prevalence of less frequent scents along the borders, Praimfaya's included, but that pleasure turned to sour disappointment when he realized her scent trail led away from the pack territory. Alone. Exactly the opposite of the Alpha's decree.

Twisting his lips into a grimace, Dragomir loped out in the same direction Praimfaya had gone, his pace positively ground-eating as he sought to catch up with the renegade Mu. She was easy to spot under the moonlight in the open terrain and he drew himself up as he got close, ears pricked and expression openly disapproving when he barked, Hydra's command was very clear.

the sound of quick, purposeful footfalls immediately draws praimfaya's attention. she peers over a moonkissed shoulder at the shadow who fast approaches, struggling for a moment before she recognizes the shadow as dragomir; upon the newfound assurance praimfaya relaxes and lets her tail sway in greeting before her lips twist in a sour look as he points out, rather disapprovingly ( like her father or an older brother might've ) that she is disobeying hydra's command.

my usual goch op is currently recovering, she tells dragomir. she would not be bother dacio while he was in recovery. she wants to add that she didn't go far and can take care of herself but doesn't wish to add fuel to the fire of him chiding her.

That's no excuse, Dragomir swiftly countered, padding down the rocky slope to flank Praimfaya in the vale's grass. There are plenty of able-bodies wolves besides him who can accompany you. Opalia, Jarilo and himself to name a few. Many of Moonspear's adults were reclusive wolves whom Dragomir had yet to formally meet, but he was certain any one of them could serve as a good travelling buddy. Even a wolf who wasn't trained to fight provided an advantage in troubling times. That's what he believed.

I'll accompany you, he decided, leaving no room for argument. Hydra wouldn't be pleased to know any one of her subordinates believes themselves above her word and Dragomir didn't want to have to be the one to deliver that news to the Alpha. Their last encounter had been awkward and he wasn't keen on revisiting it, even though he was quite keen on maintaining the law of the pack. It was the only way he ever felt in control of... well, anything. What'd you do while you were gone? he wondered conversationally, having known only that Praimfaya left for a while, but nothing of why.

that's no excuse.

admittedly, dragomir wasn't wrong and praimfaya knows this even though she does not enjoy being chided. he was also right that there were plenty of able-bodied wolves that could accompany her ...but none that she trusts as wholly as she trusted dacio. ait. praimfaya sighs the word in a tone that acknowledges what he is saying as correct; lacking the combative argument that had been pirouetting around her mind.

when he announces he will accompany her, she gives a sage nod because his tone had left no room for argument — not that she was in the mood to argue. with dragomir as her companion she begins to move once more, basking in the moonbeams and studying the phenomenon as she moves. her head inclines towards him as he speaks once more, inquiring as to what she'd done while she was gone.

the muscles of her left shoulder twinge, as if muscle memory has imprinted action of killing, the ceremony where she received the marks for each kill. she glimpses at dragomir from the corner of her eye for a long moment before her gaze eventually strays back to the errant path she's chosen.

i went to fight in the sadgeda, has verx told him about it, she wonders? it's a conclave where the spirits of the commanders choose the next commander. the fos goufas must fight to the death and the victor becomes heda. praimfaya bears each fallen commander-to-be upon her shoulder, etched into her flesh so she does not forget. these kill marks were not trophies to her, they were a memorial.

Vercingetorix hadn't, in fact, told Dragomir much at all about the coalition and their complex ceremonies. He knew the names of a few of the allied packs and the Heda from Drageda, but apart from that, his father never told him much. He hadn't been around to and once he was, Dragomir was too old to care much. That wasn't his lifestyle. It could've been if they had never left the cliffs, but it wasn't.

Oh, he said, not wanting to sound disinterested. In case he did, he felt it prudent to add, I don't really believe in all that stuff. It's a bit barbaric, don't you think? Congrats on winning, though. The fact she'd gone and won kind of suggested she didn't think it was barbaric at all, but maybe she would agree with him that it all was a little archaic. They'd had similar lives, after all. Both born to parents who fled the unnecessary conflict for the well-being and safety of their unborn children. Both families branded natrona for doing so.

Unlike Praimfaya, Dragomir didn't strive to live in a culture that forsook his family. He knew from Vercingetorix that his father was considered a traitor for simply doing what was best for his family—him and his progeny both. The young man had no interest in his kru relatives for that reason. Still, he had to ask, did the other Heda die? From what little he knew, there could only be one... and if he was natrona for being born to a natrona then how did Praimfaya, the daughter of an alleged natrona, come to be the leader of them all? Did that mean she could overturn the decree that Vercingetorix was a natrona?

His father was dead and gone, but Dragomir thought the ghost of him would appreciate that.

it's a bit barbaric, don't you think?

she had been unsure what to expect when she'd arrived to crogeda — a series of fights where child was pitted against child to fight to death for the official title of commander — but she had remembered a small feeling that it was wrong. she glimpses at her marred shoulder then, contemplating dragomir's words quietly as she mentally repeats the name of each life she took. it is the way, and if she is barbaric then ...she was what she was. this, any of it; all of it was all she had left of blodreina. she knows nothing else, wants to know nothing else because letting go of it all in favor of the unknown is like letting go of her mother.

probably, praimfaya shrugs. thyri — the leader of the pack i went to — didn't say. and it hadn't been praimfaya's place to ask. she had been there for one purpose and one purpose only.

it's pretty, isn't it? she asks then, changing the subject as she gestures to the ethereal moonglow of the vale cast from the stone wall; wondering if it made her sound 'girly'. it's why i came out here. she admits. not that it was a good excuse to ignore the rules and wander by herself; admiring it from afar hadn't been as nearly satisfying as being soaked in reflected moonglow.

The way of savages, Dragomir thought, but was wise enough not to say out loud. If Praimfaya was raised with those beliefs, then it was hardly her fault for holding firmly to them. Vercingetorix had come to view his family's ways as wrong, in the end, and that shaped the way Dragomir felt about them. Blodreina, on the other hand, had strived to continue a life she willingly left behind and that was evidenced in Praimfaya now.

Eager to leave that topic behind, he refocused on their surroundings. A tumultuous childhood and an adolescence full of practical training had robbed Dragomir of the ability to truly notice and appreciate his surroundings from a viewpoint that wasn't strictly tactical. The walls themselves seemed luminescent, the valley bathed in a soft glow, and all Dragomir could think at first was that there was nowhere to hide, and that it reminded him unpleasantly of the moonstone his mother gave him before walking callously out of his life for good.

Yeah, he replied at last, beautiful. Beautiful and tragic and uncaring, just like his mother. Giving his head a quick shake, he tried to find something to remark on other than the valley and he turned his head up to the sky. D'you find it's easier to see the stars here than it was in Diaspora? he asked. Maybe it was just memory's distorted brush painting things incorrectly, however, for Dragomir had been little in Diaspora and cared not for the stars and the sky back then.

He had other reasons not to look at the stars often, but as he walked and talked with Praimfaya, he couldn't stop himself from marvelling at them.

Tacking on a fade since I see you're removing Praimfaya from game and this doesn't seem to be a significant development thread!