Sleeping Dragon i will storm the gods, i will shake the universe

The sun had begun to settle into the sky, an array of deep orange and purple illuminating what is left of the day. It surrounds the mountain in a halo and a sight Thuringwethil doubts she'll ever get tired of seeing. Seeing the sunset in Seageda, the ocean to their west, had been a sight for her every evening and she often longs for it once more. A trip to the ocean would come sooner or later but for now, she settled on the astonishing view her mountain offers instead.

A rabbit hangs in her jaws, dead and limp, making her way to relieve Snacha from her post. The girl may be young but her training immense and she didn't doubt her second couldn't handle taking down a three legged wolf if needed be. Thuringwethil reaches the cave, spots Snacha, and dismisses the younger wolf once their greeting passes. Heda waits a few minutes before entering the cave, until Snacha has disappeared from sight. She swings her head and rabbit toward her plans for the night.

She drops the rabbit carcass a few feet from @Cirrus [Storm], looking him over with what little day light is left. "Come. Relieve yourself and then you can eat."

You're free to have threads now, if you'd like. Just keep in mind his conditions for being here, I guess. :).

Thanks, I will do so :D

Cirrus was already sick of the sight of the cave. He wondered when he would be let out of the dank space. Given that he was a captive he wasn’t sure they would let him out for some time – it was much easier to contain a wolf in a cave with only one dual entrance-exit. At some point they had to let him work his way out of this predicament, surely. For the time being this was a pipe dream; Cirrus had no way of moving further than a pained hobble to relieve himself. Even for that he had to shimmy away from his own faeces because he could no longer squat – his front paw and damage ribs left him with no opportunity. He was desparetely attempting not to use his front paw, which gnawed at his consciousness with an ever-present ache. He didn’t want it to grow back twisted and weak.

 

From outside he could hear that Heda had arrived, and his guard departed at the Alpha’s approach. There was little to report – Cirrus sat in silence for much of the day as he contemplated his prison. Perhaps he would slowly go insane. Heda came to the entrance of the cave and dropped a rabbit. The man stared in surprise at the relatively fresh meat. A pang of hunger goaded him into ignoring her words, but his sense won through. Instead he lurched unsteadily to three paws and hobbled towards the den entrance. He was careful not to sway in Heda’s direction, lest she feel threatened.

 

He moved a couple of paces away from his ‘den’ – all that he could manage – and relieved himself where he stood, unable to cock a leg. He turned back to Heda, his furled ears pointing towards the sky in that most half-cocked and unusual way. The setting sun gave her dark fur an extra dimension, and made her more beautifully dangerous than ever. He cherished the sight of the setting sun, a few seconds of rich colour that gave him more enrichment than a thousand hours in his cave. “Thank you.” He spoke, brown eyes searching her face momentarily before he averted his gaze and began to hobble back to his den. If he thought of it as a den he felt like he was confined to a sick-bed for his own good, more than his imprisonment.

 

“I won’t run, you know, Heda.” he added with a strangled bark-laugh at his own twisted joke. He hesitated outside the entrance, knowing her eyes were on him, taking one last look at the view before he crossed the shadow of the threshold and submitted himself to misery once more. The rabbit had lost its appeal. He continued to take in the surroundings, and quietly wondered why they even thought he was worth the effort of a constant guard, and healing back to health.

Storm gets to his feet, struggling on three legs but with more grave than he had when he first made the cave his home. Maybe the promise of a fresh kill is incentive enough and he's lucky to catch her shift in a good mood. Wasting a fresh meal on a captive isn't something she'd commonly do but compelled with a streak of kindness isn't exactly out of character for the dark woman. Compassion can be found, if you knew where to look.

Thuringwethil averts her gaze, giving himself a little privacy, but she listens for any particular shift that might be him trying to escape. He's yet to attempt, succumbing to his fate or building it up for later, Heda can't be sure.

His joke falls on deaf ears as he hobbles back into his prison and works to make himself comfortable. She turns to nudge the rabbit in his direction a few feet but she takes a step back and remains at the mouth of the cave. "Eat," she commands, before turning her gaze back to the outside world and giving him some sort of mock privacy so he can eat his meal without the leader staring him down.

She was the only one who had shown him any kindness, albeit after ordering his leg be broken. Cirrus desperately craved conversation, but instead she merely nudged the rabbit in after him and gave him one order. Cirrus did not wish to alienate her. He watched her gaze outside, apparently uninterested in watching him eat. Cirrus’s weird ears wilted.
 
He reached out to grip the meal by one appendage, and with a furtive glance at Heda he began to wolf it down. It was beautiful, and he ensured it reached every vestige of his mouth before he swallowed it down. It did not take him long to devour the rabbit in full. Once finished he licked his lips, too content and full to be nervous for the time being. He gently rearranged his broken front paw, to ensure he would not catch it, and then lowered himself gingerly to the floor. Despite his best efforts, his paw caught on the earth and twisted his leg; an unbidden whine escaped him but was cut short as he settled himself more carefully. He gazed at Heda, lingering in the entrance, staring the other way. Her previous curt response did not lend him to wanting to attempt another conversation.

Even though she's facing the other way, ears cupped forward as if she is listening to the outside world, she's instead focusing on the sounds Storm makes as he's eating. The illusion of privacy is all she offers him and when he's done, she casts a sidelong glance toward him as he settles himself once more. She can't see the extent of his struggle but she doesn't need to.

Once it's quiet for a few moments, Heda shifts in the entrance before she slowly settles herself down. It is not often she'll made herself comfortable in the presence of others but the length of her shift and what little ability Storm actually has makes it easier to rest. The weight on her right front leg thanks her for the break, skin taunt and scanned over from the cougar. With a breath, still pointed toward the entrance, she offers half a glance back. "Where will you go?" she asks and a second later, "when you leave here."

She moved inwards once he had finished, and settled down nearby. Cirrus carefully watched her, unsure what she wanted from him. His heart thrummed in his chest at the nearness of her electric presence. He didn’t know how to feel. He was going to go mad in this cave, he was sure of it. Only time would tell whether he could hold onto his sanity until he was allowed to roam.
 
He noticed something he never had before – the wound on her leg. Fleetingly he entertained the thought that she had been a slave too, and had risen to gain her freedom after having her leg broken. But he supposed that was too fanciful, and it was more likely an errant wound from fighting prey.
 
Her words danced into his attention, demanding a response, because he clung to any notice she gave him. He was a vain creature and had never done well on his own. “Find my sister.” Cirrus juggled with her thinking he was lying again, due to what he was about to add, but he decided he may as well to try and keep the conversation going: “the bear, we disturbed its cubs in their den and it chased us. We got separated.” His voice was a rough croak, coloured by pain and worry for his sister. He realised he hadn’t thought of her for some time. Perhaps she was the angel he could cling to; the thought of her might save him in his solitude and keep his sanity within.

She's quiet for a long moment though her half glance doesn't move, watching him from the corner of her eyes.

Find my sister.

Thuringwethil slowly exhales a hidden held breath and then looks back out the mouth of the cave. It has been so long since she'd been called to lead Seageda, separating herself from the family she'd grown up with for once and for all. Since birth, her connection to them had been distant at best as she'd been groomed and prepared for her conclave. Getting close to the ones that supported her from a young age isn't something she'd been able to afford and she'd learned quickly to separate. Her family became Seageda that fateful day and nothing partial could get in the way.

If she'd had a littermate, things would have happened differently. Perhaps Seageda might still be standing. It hasn't panned out that way and now it's barely more than a memory.

Even if she felt something tug at her heart, it isn't enough to spark anything except for pity. Maybe even sympathy. She hadn't lost her family in the same sense; it has always been better to look at them if they weren't related at all. Eventually, growing up, she'd been killed in her conclave or take the crowd. She isn't sure luck had been on her side that fateful day.

"Tell me about her," she decides to say,
slowly shifting her weight and making a slight adjustment so that she starts facing him.

Bated breath was exhaled slowly when he realised she (seemed to) believe him. At first she was quiet. Cirrus watched her slowly manoeuvre her weight to face him fully. Half of her body was cloaked in hidden shadows, set by the fading sun which still burned against her furthest flank. Cirrus found her glorious to gaze upon, even before she spoke in that tone of deep lustre. He was surprised once more. Perhaps the only constant about her was the very lack of stability. He hadn’t thought she would care about his family in the slightest.
 
Cirrus coughed quietly and then spoke. “She’s pretty, and has colours like me, although she’s smaller. Perhaps more wolfish in her ears. She’s the only girl of us five – me and my brothers look after her. She’s a bit…” Cirrus looked carefully off to one side suddenly as he admitted something which was usually met with mixed reactions. “Simple.” Various generations of inbreeding to obtain the required result had caused her retardation, for it was not from lack of teaching her things. They just tended to slip back out of her head. Cirrus risked a look back at his captor.

It takes a moment but eventually he speaks and describes what his sister looks likes and then lands on what little bit of her personality he wants to share. Thuringwethil doesn’t press for more information or what he means by simple, but there’s a tug in the back of her mind to wonder what it was like to have your siblings protective of you. Most of the family she did have were male but her time around them, on a personal level, were far more limited than others. She’d long since been alienated from the wolves she’s supposed to love. 

Thuringwethil keeps her silence once he finishes speaking, glancing away to stare at something else. She could have released him that day with a broken leg to fend for himself and he likely wouldn’t have made it too far. The longer he stays in Drageda, the longer it takes for him to find his sister, but these thoughts do not tug enough shorten his sentence.

If you want, we can wrap this up in preparation for a new one?

Sounds good! :3
 
She fell silent after he spoke. Her shadowed fur draped softly over her harsh personality as she turned to gaze away from him, as if he had not spoken at all. Cirrus’s spirits wilted further. He had nothing to do but wait out his sentence and hope that she would take pity on him once his leg had healed. He wondered whether his brothers and sisters had moved on. They were not likely to leave a man behind, but if they hadn’t found him in  the next week or so it was likely they would presume he was dead.
 
Cirrus lowered his muzzle to rest atop his good leg, liquid brown eyes staring out from the shadows at his captor, drinking her in intently.