Bearclaw Valley Silence, then...

eyes @Astara and @Merrick. Hi guys! :D

 



The silent warrior had traveled much, and far. 
Coming from more or less south, the fire-kissed woman tilted her head upon coming to the mouth of the valley from what she could assume was a meadow. 
This place smelled of wolves, of family. 
Solaria's tail wagged slowly, and she sent up a strained-from-disuse howl for leadership, for whoever ruled this place.

Now was one of few times Solaria felt...humbled, especially since she wasn't able to speak. 
Guess she'd figure it out as she went?

the call is for her parents, but she comes anyway. it's not a long trip—she's accustomed to prowling the borders, marking where she can. anything to keep their enemies out (and, perhaps, the rest of them in, as they hemorrhage numbers). she's not far when she hears the howl, and so she answers it, coming eventually upon the woman.

her eyes rake over the ivory pelt, then widen a bit as they reach the russet. much like hers. . . the stranger looks how Avicus must in the snow, a blotch of red against a white expanse. she gazes silently for a bit before meeting the woman's eyes.

what. . .can i help you with? Avicus asks, remembering her father's greeting to an unfamiliar face—though having been so silent since returning, it takes a moment for the words to come back to her tongue. nevertheless, she assumes her usual regal posture, chin lifted and shoulders squared.

she is smaller than the woman, true, but that does not mean that she is (or should look) any less.

will wait to respond again after this, till Merrick and Astara join <3

 




The first to come to Solaria is a firebrand, a beautiful russet all over her young form. The youth seems a little shocked at the patch of fire on Sol's nape, then she squares her shoulders and asks a question. 

At first, Solaria hesitates, unsure how to get her intent across. 
Ah!

The fire-kissed woman draws her paw in to touch her chest, then puts her paw in a forward stretch, stamping it once, clear and crisp, into the snow in front of Avicus. 

I want to join you. 

Surely from that gesture alone, it would be clear Sol couldn't speak? If it didn't, she would explain somehow. Little did Solaria know that the princess before her had a mother that didn't speak either.

ursus was settling without evien, but in his heart merrick had not moved on.
the healer's skull mouldered. the bearwitch would put it upon his lover's altar when it was only bone.
he wanted to drag it with him now but did not. there was a calling for him. merrick put it aside carefully and rose to answer.
it was his red-girl who had gotten there first. merrick was surprised to hear her speak; after all, she was the more quiet of the bearcubs.
he himself said nothing, only stood to the side, allowing avicus to dictate the terms of this meeting, while he flicked his single eye over the russet fire of the woman's nape.

she does not speak. gestures, instead. does she have speech, or is she like Mother—without words? the kinship Avicus had felt upon seeing her partial-red pelt grows still more. 

and, yet, she is speechless now, too.

Merrick arrives and she breathes a sigh of relief, though the feeling quickly dissipates as her father does not speak up. he stands to the side, instead, and Avicus casts him a querulous glance. he handles these scenes, does he not? he had been the one from whom she'd taken greetings, parting words, pleasantries. . .

his silence only hinders her further. she opens her mouth, releases a small ah sound, then closes it again. ah—hunt? she manages, staring at the woman. her eyes rake over the tall stature and ample musculature. fight?

she thinks of Evien, then. of the wicked pale woman, her brother's broken body. enemies all around. hunting and fighting is not enough.

kill? Avicus asks, and her voice is now cool and sharp as a razor's edge.

A second one joins them, a cyclops. He seems to be the leader, but Solaria doesn't know. 
The firebrand youth seems to understand her lack of speech.
Hunt? Solaria shrugged and nodded softly in response. I guess so.

Fight? To that, Solaria perked her ears and nodded. I am a warrior at heart.

Kill? Solaria tilted her head inquisitively, but also nodded, a firm single nod to the question with hellfire in her sunset scarlet eyes.

I will kill to protect and defend. 

Solaria wished and willed Avicus and the cyclops to understand what she meant to say.
To further confirm that she had no speech, the fire-kissed woman pulled her paw to her throat and tapped her jugular as best she could, then shook her head to emphasize: I can't speak

merrick sensed avicus' unsurety, but he would not explain himself now.
evien's death had left a rent in the material of ursus that he meant to fill with one of his children —
she must learn, for aventus held the fierce ambition of their bloodline.
and yet there was a caution in avicus that the bear had come to assume —
his thought faded; merrick watched the gestures of the other. she could not speak.
kill.
affection and pride blossoming together in his heart for his redgirl's choice of whetting.
it does not matter, merrick signalled to the mute one's explanation with a casual lick of his teeth, a single wave of his plume. he aligned himself with avicus, nodded toward the pale woman with the blaze of sunfire fur along her nape. "she will need a name. unless you can give us one," he added, looking back toward their guest.

a nod. a nod. then. . .eventually a nod. Avicus doesn't know how to perceive the hesitation. her gaze is steely, sure, but has the woman ever killed before? 

only the moment of truth would tell. how soon that moment would come for the mute woman, Avicus doesn't know.

she glanced at Merrick and nodded. she has no real talent for names. all she can think is blood as she stares upon the woman's pelt—but blood is hers and hers alone. she feels oddly protective of the name, the color and taste of it.

blood-flower. hers alone.

Solaria offered a hint of a smile in gratitude at Merrick's silent response. Thank you She seemed to say, as she looked upon them both. 
A name?
Solaria saddened some, and it showed outwardly- she could not provide a name. 
Instead, she looked upon the child and padded a couple steps toward her, placing an extended paw down in the snow in front of Avicus directly:

I want you to choose my name. 

Though there was a question mixed with the want, a 'would you please?' kind of body language accompanying the gesture. Though Solaria knew not what Avicus may think, if blood-flower was what came out, blood-flower it would be.

blood was his daughter's robe.
the fierce sunrise slash of scarlet in the mute woman's fur reminded merrick of other things: lightning licking at the edge of a dry tree, fire sweeping through an old forest, burning all and leaving a choking smoke in its wake.
the purification through flame, embodied in the new skeptic who pledged her fealty to the inner family of ursus. and to his red girl.
"vesta, perhaps."
he would leave it to avicus, and time would tell whether or not the woman would be worthy to wield such fire for merrick and his own.
he leant forward, a soulless curve lighting his scarred lips. "ursus will be your home. never cross us."

she's affronted when the woman places her paw down, squarely in front of her. she takes the meaning. she doesn't like it. just because she spits words means she is suddenly the name-giver? her father has spoken much more than she.

her eyes narrow almost imperceptibly, but thankfully Merrick takes the burden from her shoulders. Vesta, he says, and she nods. she may have nodded at anything. a name is a name; Avicus finds little importance in monikers and perhaps never will. she is his blood-flower, and the woman is Vesta.

it is done.

or we'll kill you, she adds, thinking first of her threat to Karst (just words) and then her teeth in Earp's throat (action). she would not hesitate. she gives Vesta a gimlet glance and then moves away, the barest touch of her tail to her father's shoulder. her work here is finished.

Solaris nods to her new name without protest. At the threat though, she has to bite her tongue a bit to resist a scoff, not out of doubt but disbelief at the childishness. Loyalty is earned, and every wolf worth the title knows that. 
But Solaria gave no signs of her thoughts, instead following them obediently into the valley.