Northstar Vale good morning, look at the sun

For @Scimitar, but others welcome too~
This thread is set mid-way through their journey from Neverwinter to the Maplewood. Around the 20th of March.

What a bally beautiful spot, Goldhawk remarked chattily as he and his bright-eyed Alpha Male roamed between two lovely lakes that glistened in the early morning sun. The bard had been quieter than he usually was, partly out of respect for Scimitar, who was hardly a jovial chatter-upper, and partly out of respect for the mission at hand — which was, after all, a very serious one. Still, that didn't mean there weren't perfect sunlit moments like this one. He had to take advantage of it. Would you care for a song, sire? Just a small one. The littlest ditty.

LOLol at this thread. Assuming that while it's stated Goldhawk was quiet than normal, he was still probably a bit chatty, which would be totally opposite of Scimitar.. xD Let me know if you want it changed, Ells!

He had hoped to make this journey as quickly and painless as possible – and yet the chatter of his companion was akin to torture for the stoical male, and while he had responded thus far primarily with grunts, single words and a few nods, Goldhawk did not seem deterred that his Alpha and travel buddy was more or less an anti-social git. Goldhawk was perhaps quieter than normal – something the agouti wolf could appreciate, yet as the tawny male mentioned the beauty of the land around them, Scimitar responded with a tell-tale grunt of agreement, his gaze flickering to study the Gamma and offer him a small smile of apology. His nerves were on edge – the thought of sending such a creature to Saena’s doorstep sickened him, and he was eager to check on the pale she-wolf.

At the thought of a song, Scimitar inwardly cringed, and yet he could picture Eshe all but beaming at the zealous wolf after cuffing her mate’s ear, had she been here. So, with another small smile, this one more forced, the Frostfur gave a nod. “Sure,” he agreed, attempting to relax his sore muscles before glancing around the Vale.

That's perfectly fine, ty for checking! :)

For the great ocean-eyed fellow, who was his senior in every way, Goldhawk was on his very best behaviour. He knew that sometimes he could be overly chatty to many peoples' tastes, and he did adjust accordingly, but he was a great believer in the self. He was a talkative sod, there was just no escaping it.

But, again, for one he saw as a great classic among Lords, Goldhawk was doing his best. And yes, his best did involve some singing, so the pair sat and admired the scenery while the bard did his thing.

It was a smooth but lovely song, and his voice was similarly so. There was no bounce or nonsense to this ditty. He'd written it for Neverwinter.

By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie trees,
Where the sun shines bright on Neverwinter,
Where true souls and true love dances in the light,
By the bonnie, bonnie trees o' Neverwinter. ♫

The first verse lingered, and he took a sidelong glance to determine if his Lord was attentive or if he was listening with gritted teeth and folded ears.

He waited – not eager for the idea of being sung to like he was being serenaded to be over – and yet once the tawny wolf’s voice lilted through the air, gentle and perfect, he found himself relaxing. It was a short song – but one dedicated to the very lands he missed the moment his pale paws had stepped from them. “You’ve quite the talent,” he offered then – offering praise for anything other than skills of prowess and strength was a rare feat for the stoical man. “Eshe will love it – you’ll have to sing it to her when we’re home once more.”
 
He paused then, feeling the gentle pang of missing his mate. With the shift of his form, he withheld a yawn, feeling the fatigue in his muscles from their travel already. “Which we should try to do as soon as possible. I do not trust leaving Neverwinter with fewer wolves to protect its borders. I don’t trust our neighbors.”

Goldhawk smiled genuinely at Scimitar's compliment, truly flattered (despite already knowing that he was a bally good singer, of course), but there was a brief spark of mischief to his smile. For he was very tempted to admit that there were many more verses to the song...

But shortly the topic changed, and Goldhawk tucked the song away for later. He would serenade those noble ears again within the hour, he was quite adamant. But in the meantime, he followed his Alpha's lead to the next conversation. Quite right, quite right, he nattered, looking out over the glorious landscape. But don't fret, sah — we may have less soldiers back home for the time being, but they're twice as hardy as the ones across the borders. Think of good old Kyron, and Kieran and Kaskara — not to mention Lady Eshe herself, who is becoming quite the agile warrioress if you don't mind my saying so, wot wot wot.

On such a note, Scimitar had to resist the urge to quicken his pace, his thoughts torn between ensuring Saena’s pack was well, or returning home swiftly to keep harm from coming to his pack. Yet he knew Eshe would be disappointed if he returned without word of this Goober fellow – especially as she seemed so fond of Charon.. something he had yet to truly understand why, spare that the guy was some distant cousin.
 
Goldhawk’s words kept him grounded for the time, though one ear flickered in mild disappointment at the mention of Kyron, who’s scent had disappeared from their home for quite some time. He did not expect the fellow back – and it was likely the man had decided pack life was not for him yet.
 
“Have you been training with Eshe?” The thought of his silver mate panged him – the idea of her having to place herself to battle. And yet, she needed to learn – because devastation tended to follow the Frostfur’s no matter where they went.

Goldhawk missed the slight droop in his stoic lord's demeanour at mention of Kyron, being unaware that his fellow gold-furred warrior had left the pack. He had a life debt to Kyron, who had saved his skin and brought him into the Neverwinter fold. It had been more than a matter of days since he'd seen his friend last, but Neverwinter was a large territory and there was scouting to be done beyond it. A loyalist like Goldhawk would never assume that anyone had up and left without explanation.

He did, however, notice the twinge of despondency at mention of Eshe. The extent of his knowledge of love came in the form of a great wave of intensity he'd felt upon gazing into the eyes of a certain Diane. So while he knew some related feelings, he couldn't relate to what it was like to part from a spouse for any length of time. Goldhawk didn't know whether it was best to drop the subject or speak more of Eshe, so he just kept doing what he did best: blabbered on forever.

Yes indeedeo. I taught her one of the best shadow boxing methods I know — showed her how to give the old one-two to a tree, no less. Have you ever done that, sah? Draw yourself a springy branch, let it fly, and bite yourself some pine needles before you get thwacked in the noggin.

Goldhawk mentioned sparring with Eshe – something Scimitar appreciated in the sense that he hoped all of his pack mates would not only feel comfortable doing so with one another, but would do so to become prepared for whatever might come their way. And yet the method was certainly one he was not unfamiliar with, and as the tawny” wolf questioned whether or not Scimitar had partaken a good old spar with a tree, the regal gave a soft shake of his muzzle. “No, I don’t believe I have,” he murmured, amusement hinting in his tone.
 
“And how did she do with that?” With the question in the air, the Alpha gave a nod to Goldhawk, his own form lifting before stretching, a quiet indication that they should continue on their way, as they still had quite a bit of ground to cover.

As the pair continued their stride into the evergreen beyond, Scimitar leading the way, Goldhawk exclaimed with great enthusiasm: she was bloomin' exceptional, sire, excuse my language. Lady Eshe can duck and weave like a hare on springs, give or take a similie or two.

He was exaggerating a bit, sure, but it wasn't sycophancy: Goldhawk really was this enthusiastic about her training. I imagine you might be more of a... strength and fury type sah, perhaps, if you don't mind my asking...? He was ever so curious about Scimitar's fighting style. He was a huge wolf, and Goldhawk had been so close to seeing him in battle, but hadn't yet had the honour.

Scimitar was uncertain of what language he was supposed to excuse – nothing the man had said seemed to hint at disrespect, and yet Goldhawk was certainly an odd one, to say the least. Pride rose within the dark agouti man, and he felt a small smile press to his lips in turn – it was one thing he did fear for his beloved. His past life had been rather tumultuous, and he did not expect that to change so suddenly – already the potential of chaos breathed down upon them in the forms of Silvertip Mountain and even Blackfeather Woods. To hear that she was doing exceptionally well in the art of defense and fighting was certainly relieving.
 
At his golden companion’s assumption, Scimitar felt a bemused smile press to his lips. “Swiftness is not my forte,” he clarified, if that offered the Gamma any insight. Perhaps once they had returned, and all of this was behind them, the two could spar with one another.
 
“Once we’re home and settled, I can show you,” he offered with a slight wink, his paws continuing through the terrain in the direction of Saena’s pack.

Goldhawk chuckled, ever-warmed towards his otherwise stoic Alpha. It'd be a pleasure and a privilege, he replied lightly. And Scimitar was quite right to resist the temptation for a spar right here and how. They had to preserve their energy for the journey, which was as lengthy ahead as it had been already. But there was another way to pass the time...

How about I sing the rest of the Neverwinter ballad to see us on our jolly old way...?

He was eager to get back on the road, and as his golden companion was at his side, Scimitar picked up his pace with the determination to ensure Saena was fine and to seek out Goober so they could return to the Forest.

It was Goldhawk’s suggestion that drew a growing dread in his heart. Scimitar’s gaze cast to the side, studying his companion with a stoical mask – hoping he managed to withhold the horror from his eyes. “Best not,” he offered then, his mind fumbling for an excuse to not have his Gamma serenade him during their journey. “We should keep our eyes peeled out for Goober or any others who might have seen him.” It was the best he could come up with, but it wasn’t half bad of an excuse – surely anyone they hoped to corner unexpectedly would either be drawn to the noise or slink away – and Goober wasn’t supposed to know Scimitar took this journey.

lol XD Fading here~

Goldhawk nodded obediently, but, let's be honest, he was jolly disappointed. He had a whole Neverwintian ballad written in his head, and he'd only ever sung it to the trees before. Scimitar had heard a snippet, and one day would have to hear the rest, of that he was quite sure. In the meantime, however, Goldhawk sung it in his head, in the confines of his own mind.

Which meant, of course, that outloud he was mercifully quiet for the next half hour.