Bearclaw Valley push and pull

Time only drove her further into the spirit world, but at the same time, something was missing. Sithis was everywhere, of course, but —

This was the bear's land.

She missed the woods. Yet she also realised that the spirits had brought her here for a reason. To bless Astara 's brood, perhaps. To be with her dark counterpart, for without the night there can be no day, perhaps. Many possible reasons but none that interested her very much.

She longed for the darkness of the Woods, for the darting colourful spirits that would play around her head and for the constricting webs of darkness that would confound any wolf unworthy to serve Sithis.

Connection to their heritage waned.

Did @Astara feel it too? The undeniable pull?

purposely didn't mention a physical presence or time of day but feel free to assume she is wherever in the territory.

her aunt is a mystery. she has words—Avicus has heard them—but Averna is somehow twice the enigma of her silent sister. perhaps it is because she seems less feral than Astara. more like Merrick, rooted in things other than flesh and bone.

Avicus watches her from a short distance before approaching, giving the pale woman a chuff.

she wonders if there's anything she can bring as some sort of icebreaker. she doesn't know Averna well at all. her aunt looked as if she were deep in thought. what about?

hello, she greets, sitting back, staring expectantly.

When the word broke through the veil in front of her eyes, the priest barely noticed at first. Glossed over white eyes stare into the distance, in the general direction of Thief's child; as if lost in thought, as if staring into the distance. The two of them weren't very close. The priest did not even know if this child of Bear and Thief was anything like her in any way, or if she was like Thief; down to earth and brutish. She served Sithis in her own ways, but they were very different ways than the ghost.

Ah, you come, she said as a smile tugged at the edges of her lips. She sounded as if she had expected the child for a long time and was glad that a wordless invitation was finally met.

the way she speaks is strange. . .as if she's been expecting Avicus. the red girl looks a little taken aback at that, but comes closer still, giving the woman a nod. Averna seems amiable—but she expects nothing less than twisted from her family. each of them are violent in their own way.

what. . .are you. . .doing? she asks, each word hesitant, spaced out. she's been listening to conversations between other wolves, trying to pick up the nuances of language. and she is improving, but her speech is still quite slow. 

but how else is she to get along? the only one that truly understands her beyond words is her mother. the rest require conversation, at least in some manner.

at least they are accustomed, or should be, to Astara's silence. her daughter's speech may come across more as learned than deficient.

Words never came easy for the pale priest either; her caretaker had been wordless, her counterpart had been just as silent. Only other wolves in the pack taught her about words. Legs, among them, and, ah, what were their names... Family. A meaningful word for most mortals, but for the priest, not so much. Thief was the only one that she considered locked in her heart of her blood family. She and those who held Blackfeather Woods in her heart, for that was truly where her heart lay.

Not with the bear.

With the night mother and with Sithis. They had called her here, to Thief — ah, but what now? They were silent. She should visit to find out what they want.

The ruddy child seemed to have as hard a time with words as she did when she was young. It was no surprise, considering the similar way they grew up. A birth mother with no voice.

Fleetingly thoughts drifted towards her own birth mother, her caretaker, but soon they were back in the present.

What was she doing?

Ah, a good question, but not really one that was.. answerable, in any way.

Oh, these mortal wolves and their intricate desires to know everything.

For some time she remained silent, pale eyes staring in the direction of her companion but looking as though they were staring in a far-off distance rather than directly at her.

Thinking. It was unlike her to directly answer a question that was asked of her. Normally she would answer in riddles only, and even though she gave away little, it was more than she would normally. Especially in her present state. As if a follow-up question had already been asked, she added: Blackfeather Woods. Home. Well, no mortal place would truly be home. But Blackfeather Woods was closest to home as it could get for her.

thinking. she doesn't do much of that—well, not really. she thinks a lot about what she's going to eat next, or what activities with which she'll fill the day. but her aunt seems to have much deeper notions on the brain, and Avicus cocks her head slightly, only growing more lost as Averna continues.

this is home, she responds. there is no emotion in her voice; it's a bland statement of fact, as she's known nowhere else besides this valley. is Averna talking about somewhere she hasn't found yet within these walls? where? she asks briefly.

maybe her aunt will lead her there. hopefully it's not too far. she had found a new rabbit warren not too far from here, and she wants to make the most of that before someone else discovers its potential.

The wisp shared only a chuckle when the child mentioned that this was home. It was stated so factually, as if she was completely right and the ghost was clearly wrong. A fact if ever there was one. Home was where the heart was, of course; and the priest's heart belonged to the woods.

Blackfeather Woods, the priest repeated upon the question. She smacked her lips lightly and lifted her head in western direction. Where the spirits live. Perhaps it was an insult to Bear that she would say that spirits lived there rather than here, in his home, but it was how she felt. Here, there were some, but in the Woods, oh, the Woods, it was so much easier to connect to them because they were everywhere.

she follows her aunt's gaze westward. hits the walls—well, somewhat. she knows that if she shifts her eyes a little, they will lead her from the valley. so, not here, then? where else was home but here?

show me, Avicus insists, looking back at Averna. it can't be too far. Averna is a loyal Bearclaw wolf; to yearn for somewhere far seems well out of character.

but then, she supposes she doesn't know her aunt much at all.

and she's already regretting speaking up. outside the valley lay myriad threats, not the least of which the bear that nearly tore her asunder. spirits? she queries instead, trying to shift the conversation even though it's too late.

She asked to be shown; a thing that the priest could do, but she knew it would be a journey. Not today, she said, but there was a promise lingering in her words; a promise that she would show the Woods to Thief's child soon enough. This child was so brazen and very.. well, mortal was the best way to put it, the wisp supposed. Much like Thief herself.

The question of spirits went unanswered. The priest's lips merely twitched in a somewhat mad smile. Interest was piqued, and that was enough for now. She would find out about all the deities and spirits buried in Blackfeather Woods soon enough, when she set foot in the woods for herself. Different spirits than those that lingered here.

Avicus frowns. she feels like she's being left out of something important. maybe only important to Averna, but still—she doesn't like the sense that she is being excluded. even if it goes over her head, she still needs to know, to see.

otherwise, Blackfeather Woods and spirits are just. . .stories. ramblings from a woman that keeps to herself.

you are here, she says. she flexes her toes, relishing in the familiar earth of Bearclaw Valley. how? why not home? her aunt speaks of such reverence for the forest; it is a mystery to Avicus how she ended up somewhere that she does not consider to be 'home.'

Averna has been here for as long as Avicus can remember—and still, she speaks of the past.

still, Averna is a mystery.

Of course, more questions followed. Ah, how very grounded she was. A part of the wisp envied this — how she longed to be more present at times. Yet at other times, she felt that the mortals were so simplistic. Nobody understood her; not truly.

The spirits lead me here, she answered, indulging in the child's questions for a moment.

again, her aunt speaks of things she does not understand. Merrick, too, has this complexity. he speaks of spirits, particularly that of the bear, the one that watches over the valley.

for her part, she knows nothing of souls. only bodies and those things that come with them.

okay, she answers briefly. there are many more questions, but if they are all to be answered like this—vaguely, brusquely—she would rather let them fall by the wayside. 

there is the issue of the rabbit warren to deal with, after all.

Avicus gives Averna a long stare, a curt nod, and then turns, trotting back toward the shadows of the trees. she thinks of Blackfeather Woods for a moment but then it is lost to other concerns, for she knows that the world she occupies is different from the one her aunt is trapped within.