Sleeping Dragon death doesn't descriminate between the sinners and the saints

@Cirrus: back dated a few days, also a little vague since i don't... know what exactly is going to happen. @Goliath, you don't have to reply here but i hope the slight pp is okay. later, thuringwethil will call for @Lucani and/or @Gyda.

The exertion of getting the dainty wolf to the nearest cave she could remember, Thuringwethil’s breathing evens out and she stands silent in the opening. The other’s dropped near the back like a sack of bones, and she’s halted further action while she rushes through her options. One right after the other floods her mind and she stares at Goliath as he moves; she barks a command at him to leave her alone with her newest companion.

When her giant is gone and she watches him disappear into the woods before she swings her head ‘round to stare into the shadows. She lingers a few moments longer: shoulders back, tail up right. Heda. Thuringwethil takes a calculated step forward, leaning into the front half of her body and keeps the exit blocked off. The cave isn’t terribly large and the opening is small enough she’d easily favor a shift to one side and and cut him off. Heda chuffs quietly.

Cirrus had been manhandled with little care, and indeed it appeared his dead and pained weight had caused a lot of effort, which he was pleased about. He didn’t know whether they had brought him here to kill him in private, or to torture him. Panic was tying with anger, and pain came in at a close second. His ribs had not healed but thankfully his adrenaline was keeping the wound’s knowledge at bay. For now Cirrus cast a squirrely look around the cave and then watched as Goliath was commanded away.
 
Now he was left with the sleek black female who didn’t appear to have any interest in his story. Her movement to block the exit was pointless. He knew he stood no chance if he bolted. Her presence was unyielding, and her strength needlessly showing in her muscles.
 
It was pleasant to be able to breathe properly, although he had to keep his breaths short and sweet to avoid angering his ribs. Cirrus wasn’t sure he wanted to prompt another strangulation but the silence after her chuff grated on him more than anything else. “What are you going to do with me?” He shot at her petulantly, curling his tail under his belly and shifting so that he faced her from his position, half-slumped against the floor.

What are you going to do with me?

Sleeping Dragon isn’t well equipped enough to handle a captive. The easiest thing for them would be to end the trespasser’s life or to simply let him go where, with a broken leg, would likely end in his death anyway. Seageda’s populous and rocky, oceanic terrain made it easy to guard those captive for one reason or another. The strength she has here doesn’t match but she’s sure she can make due with what she has.

Most of those she’s held had secrets or motive against her command, damaging the coalition she’d been working on, but here, at her paws, is a stupid mistake awaiting punishment. “Where do you come from?” she decides, just to cross it off her list before his fate is determined.

She didn’t even answer him. Insolent crow. Cirrus gripped onto his anger, the only thing that kept him going. His leg throbbed, threatening to cripple him with agony if he didn’t keep his focus on her. Instead she posed him another question. Cirrus debated not answering her for a moment, but his natural instinct to extend his life (even in this sorry state) won out.
 
“Five weeks hard travel outside here.” ‘here’ clearly encompassing her lands and also the Teekon Wilds in general. Cirrus’s angry brown eyes watched her paws, wondering what he could even do now. Even if they decided to let him go, his leg would be the death of him. He doubted they would bother feeding a… prisoner? Was that what he was?
 
Cirrus fell silent. She appeared to be posing the questions and he didn’t see the point in asking her something, only to be ignored again.

His answer doesn’t have much information for her and she growls, low, and takes a step forward. Pushing for more might not get her very far, especially if he doesn’t have anything to do with her anxieties and so far nothing about him seems familiar. He looks at her the same way the other wolves do, even those in her own claim; they see Thuringwethil where they should see heda. The fire in her eyes soften, blaze dying down with the unfamiliarity he has for her.

“Fix you,” she states, answering his question from before. “You will pay for your crime with contribution. Then I will let you go.” Thuringwethil raises a brow as she lets the information sink in, offering an inviting smirk should he think he have more options to give her, parameters to his sentence that she’s already set in stone.

She’d so far pinned him down, nearly choked him, and had his leg broken. He was unsure how to feel. He could accept he had been trespassing (his bear story had fallen down like a den of sticks in a storm) but the aggressive tribe of wolves seemed to have taken the usual punishments one step further. He was now cooped up in a cave with a potential murderer.
 
He didn’t see her eyes because he didn’t dare look at them. The change in her demeanour was obvious enough, however. The echoes of the growl still lingering, this alpha changed tack, and suddenly answered his question.
 
Cirrus looked up from her paws in surprise, to catch the smirk and the slightest glimpse of her softer expression. She had an unusual way with her words, as though she wasn’t quite sure of what she was saying. Cirrus certainly didn’t think she knew what she was saying, because why would she let him go? He supposed all he could do was serve her and hope for eventual retribution. It was something to strive for at least.
 
Also, fixing him was a great goal but it would take weeks before he was going to be any use at all! He didn’t want to say this in case she changed her mind and slashed his throat. “Okay…” Cirrus started meekly, hovering between vomiting and screaming from the pain. It was clouding his vision. “How long…?” He sensibly , gazing at her cheek with tears swimming in his eyes. How long will I be your prisoner? Lowest of the low.

*rubs cheeto dust over overdramatic child*

“As long as it takes.”

The dark woman stiffens, turning her gaze away from him to look out the mouth of the cave. She’d need to call @Gyda soon but there’s a part of her concerned about her decisions, if her queen would disagree with her chosen path. @Lucani would question her, she has for most things so far—but in a way that doesn’t threaten her choices. Then again, Thuringwethil hadn’t yet presented her with a captive.

She narrows her slate grey eyes, lifting her nose to call for the two women. She’d find out soon enough but she doesn’t waver in her decision, looking back. Thuringwethil returns to the depth of the cave again while she waits their arrival. “You will have someone with you at all times and I will determine when you’re done,” she informs, leaving a few good feet between them once she’s returned. “What’s your name?”

*giggle*

 
Cirrus watched her carefully. She turned, gazing outside at something unseen to him and moved off a-ways. His wavy fur in disarray, he took the moment of ignorance to check over his front paw. The bitch. He already felt like his back legs had been stretched on a rack, thanks to his being pulled from underneath the stupid mountain-wolf - now he had a completely snapped front leg. So basically he was screwed.
 
A howl deafened his ears and he glared at his companion as she called for backup. Momentarily he wondered if she had changed her mind about killing him, but then she returned back to him and spoke. Cirrus listened with resignation, thoughts of his sister flooding his mind. She was nothing like this callous crow, his beautiful Angel. Some wolves had pack-names he had realised, but he and his siblings had only been given one. It was his last vestige of freedom.

With his face twisted in pain, Cirrus answered nearly immediately with a short, clipped tone: "Name's Storm." He didn't have the capacity to think much further afield right now, but damned if he was giving his one name - his freedom - to her.

Thuringwethil's howl rose through the frigid winter air, summoning Gyda to her. Gyda's arrival was as prompt as she could make it, though she had to take some time to recover the cache she'd been in the process of stocking when the summon had rose. Thus, it had cost her more time than she would have liked. The shield-maiden often prided herself on being prompt, but she did not hear any signs of distress, no life or death urgency that she could tell so she hadn't been encouraged to abandon the cache so immediately, though Gyda had not been terribly far away. When she did arrive upon the scene at hand, she took a moment to assess it, her eyes drawing, as they so often did, to Heda before, slowly, the icy caribbean gaze flickered over to the thing. It wasn't fair of her to assume anything, really, she realized, and for the record he looked like a wolf but also not like a wolf, nor a coyote, either. His ears were wrong and his fur appeared to be curly in some places. 

He looked indisposed, though Gyda had never completed her medic training to the level of her mother, or Lucani she suspected. As she had grown that obsession had moved onto more immediate things: things that would come to aid her further in her life, that would bestow upon her the honored title of shield-maiden when she'd reached Ragnar's birth home. “What has happened here?” Gyda addressed Thuringwethil, though she continued to study the unknown male for a few moments longer, evidenced with a small sliver of disgust before she turned her muzzle up as she focused her attention to Thuringwethil, awaiting Heda's explanation.

Heda watches the way his face twists in pain, her own eyes scrutinizing as she sizes up the injury. He had his fair share before she’d come upon the scene, leaving her to do her own damage in the process. She’d never had a broken bone of her own but she couldn’t imagine the pain he’s currently in. Faith in Lucani’s abilities do not fall short, perhaps she’s dealt with the type of injury but she’s unsure of how the older woman might react to the decisions she’s made in the last little bit.

“You will call me Heda,” she tells him, voice low; a snake. He’s nothing more than a thorn in her side for now, until he’s well, and what she gives him proves to be just as limited. Heda is the deciding factor of his future and welcoming him into her home isn’t one of the things she has planned.

Gyda shows up and she stiffens slightly but does not turn to greet her. She waits until her queen approaches, and from the corner of her eye she can see the way her face changes and the question directed at her even though she’d yet to be seen. “Trespasser,” Thuringwethil tells her, slowly. “Goliath intercepted him.” Thuringwethil turns her head then, looking to the mouth. Gyda hadn’t been quick about her arrival but she hadn’t pressed the matter urgently. @Lucani had yet to show and she hesitates speaking more without her healer present.

One grey ear fluttered backwards at the familiar howl of her Heda, so Lucani interrupted a patrol to make her way swiftly to the location. She was tired — this had meant to be the last patrol of the day, and rest would be welcome. But it wouldn't be coming any time soon, it seemed. When she arrived at last it was on a scene that had already unravelled. Both her Alphas were there, but the presence of a suspicious stranger prevented her from greeting them properly. There were certainly injuries to attend to... but she looked first to Thuringwethil, who had called, in a patient request for much-needed revelation.

“Yes, Heda.” Cirrus responded, testing the unusual word on his tongue more out of interest than respect. Was this her name or some sort of battle title? Cirrus didn’t have long to wait before another wolf showed up, and stared at him as though he were mouse-dirt on her paw. The way that Heda did not turn, and new-wolf did not immediately lower her body, suggested that this was a Beta female. Cirrus had little interest. None of their words were directed at him and he was struggling to stay conscious. He hoped he was not bleeding internally; he had no way of knowing. The girls appeared to be waiting for someone else – she appeared soon enough. Cirrus idly wondered whether there were even any other males in the pack. He waited dizzily for Heda to explain the situation more thoroughly. He knew the first rules of prison – don’t speak unless you’re spoken to.

Breaking post order with permission to move it along. I don't really care if we stick to an order unless it becomes necessary so just keep communication open or use your best judgment if that works for everyone?

Thuringwethil doesn't let her gaze leave the captive, even when he starts to lose himself. She narrows her eyes, watching, expecting Gyda to say something but she doesn't. She's silent in the face of her short explanation. Perhaps waiting for Lucani to get the entire story though there isn't much necessary information she's already explained. Storm made his bed when he trespassed into Drageda and he isn't leaving without some debt being paid. The extent of their loss might not be much but his sins will not go unanswered.

Lucani steps into the cave and one ear twitches, swiveling halfway in her only greeting but quickly returns to Storm. A moment of silence lingers between them and when he seems more dazed than anything, she then turns to the others.

"He trespassed into Drageda today," she finally announces, "I found him and Goliath fighting within our borders. He declined attention, Lucani, but perhaps you should find him anyway." Later.

Thuringwethil looks to the older woman, her features softening a little in her presence but she forces it away, hiding it as if she were ashamed.

"His front leg his broken and he has a few wounds. Do what you can to prevent infection but do not go to great lengths. We will not waste more supplies than we have to," she explains, stiffening her voice into a demand she has yet to use with the healer. The woman isn't of their ways, learning the things Thuringwethil has grown up learning. "Nothing for his pain," she tells her as if she's had to remind her before but she can't fight it, can't soften for a wolf that she isn't sure how she'd take it. They've yet to experience such harshness together and doing so so early in their relationship feels more like a test than she expected.

A breath hitches in the back of her throat she swallows when she wants to expel, swinging her gaze to her queen and leaving Lucani to her devices with the captive.

"He will contribute to us when he's able, if he makes it that long," she offers, swinging her gaze to Storm again, "unless he proves to be useless before then."

Gyda was quiet as she studied this Storm, her icy caribbean gaze harsh where it slid over him, assessing his injuries though her abandonment of the medic trade left her unable to do anything; if she would have done anything at all, anyway. She had no mercy for trespassers, just as Ragnar had. He had only kept them alive to manipulate them, to make an example of them and then send them on their way to spread the word of his barbarism so that it might prevent others from making the same stupid decision and coming face to face with a death they did not want. It was funny to the shield-maiden to see such blatant disrespect vanish as they begged and pleaded for their lives, their bravado gone the moment they could feel it's weight upon them. Her disgust was thinly veiled and she turned her nose away from him to face Thuringwethil as the ebony Heda offered an explanation.

“If he lives that long he might provide to be a good slave.” But above that Gyda saw little use for him. She turned her fierce gaze back to Storm then. “You are lucky to have your life today,” Was all she spoke, her words abrupt and chilling; meant to cut to the bone. “We will see if the Gods remain merciful.” Perhaps they would enjoy a sacrifice — it had been some time since the viking queen had offered them one. As it currently stood, his life meant little to Gyda and whether he lived or died was of no consequence to the Scandinavian woman.

Lucani listened carefully. As Thuringwethil knew, the older female was not the type to blindly obey a system she did not agree with — that, indeed, was why she'd left her previous pack, which had made a sudden turn to needlessly patriarchal. She was not prepared to argue with her Alphas, both of whom she liked and respected, but if something was severely amiss, she had every intention of speaking up — albeit not in front of the captive, who had no right to know of their communications.

As it happened, Lucani did not have to speak up, because she didn't really disagree with any of this.

She noted that Goliath would need attention after this tense scene had wrapped up, and she noted that the scene was a worthy one. Had all this been left to Lucani she would not have dealt with the wolf's trespass in quite this manner, but it was not up to her, and the difference between her way and the Alphas' way was not extreme enough for her to even consider disobeying. She simply nodded, and went to inspect the injured male. It was impressive that Thuringwethil had been very particular in her ministrations. The male would not die, nor be crippled. Rare herbs would allow him to heal a lot faster, but with the instruction that she don't waste them on the stranger she would have to look to a far more common method — time. A lot of it.

But there were also some other things she could do that would not have much of an effect on their resources, but would speed the healing process and allow his bones to recover in a reasonably symmetrical manner. I'll be back shortly with some common herbs, she told her Alphas, and departed for now.

Cirrus balked internally – he didn’t remember declining attention! Perhaps his penchant to shrink back from the situation had caused that impression. Now that he was a prisoner and had no chance of getting out, he had no intention of being left broken and battered when help was offered. Pride was a stupid emotion when you were in pain and helpless. Heda’s admission that he was to have no pain medication shot through his nerves and a soft, slow whine escaped him. He was quite sure he would prove useless. He could not do anything with a broken leg. Perhaps he should just make a break for it, and let them shred him now instead.
 
The thought was appealing. If his leg didn’t hurt so badly, he might have attempted it. But he knew he was a coward, and he knew he had no chance of even attempting to run on three legs.
 
He was given a talking to by the other female that looked like a leader. Cirrus’s liquid  brown eyes wavered on her form, accepting her words with resignation and a face masked only with pain and fear.

I hope you guys don't mind me closing this up. :3

There is little else to cover and she glances between the two remaining. Gyda’s threats don’t go unnoticed but Heda doesn’t address them, flicking her gaze toward the wispy wolf held captive beneath her feet. A guard schedule would need to fall into place because while the male couldn’t get very far, she doesn’t want to have to worry about chasing him down and doing more damage. If he understands her conditions, he’ll be able to leave in relatively one piece but putting an end to it isn’t beyond the reach of reality.

Lucani takes the command well enough before she disappears from the cave. Her head turns, watching her leave her line of sight. Thuringwethil shifts back a step, rolling her shoulders when she dismisses Gyda from the scene. They’ll discuss the guarding situation later but for now, Heda takes the first shift—which, uncomfortably for the two of them, is in silence. She stays out of the way when Lucani returns, watching as she attends his wounds.