Sleeping Dragon a prophecy

Gyda had, much to her own surprise, had not hid in the confines of her cave during the swarm as she might have initially thought she would have. The urge had been there, of course, for there wasn't anything she found herself more terrified of than insects. Her duties did not cease because of the swarm, if anything she felt a more pressing urge to see to them and soothe the concerns of her subordinates as best she could. She wanted to feel optimism, but it was hard when faced with the bone-like limbs of the trees and world around them. The swarm had devoured everything in their path but left plenty of bug carcasses around. A wave of nausea overtook her, sudden and she found herself throwing up in ...what had once been a lively little bush just outside the mouth of her cave. Now, it was little more than a shrub skeleton covered in her vomit.

Initially, so caught up in the chaos of the swarm and the devastation it left in it's wake that she's almost forgotten about the life that was, hopefully, growing within her. Over her fear for their survival in the coming months — for surely no herds would linger: there was nothing for them to eat — there had been little time for the Viking Queen to obsess over her symptoms. Not that, granted, she had much idea of what to look for. Lucani had long since left them and had taken her invaluable knowledge with her. Gyda had once wanted her as her adviser and midwife and now the shield-maiden, if Gavriel's seed had taken, would be on her own: for even her own mother was too far away to turn to for the advice and answers.

For now, Gyda focused on what was important: the survival of the pack, her survival, and if The Gods willed it to be so: the survival of the life forming within her. There was no time for her to analyze or be excited about something as revolting as throwing up. Instead, she collected herself as if she hadn't just vomited what little contents her stomach held and marched on, in search of one of the caches, hoping for a few bites. There were plenty of dead bugs around, she noted, but idly Gyda couldn't help but wonder just how desperate she'd have to be before she would succumb to turning to dead bugs for food.

Unlike Gyda, who appeared to dislike the taste of the bugs that littered the land, Seregryn was all for it. She returned from her foray outside of the territory now — slipping across the borders once the swarm had dissipated, snapping at those that remianed — and she wormed her way along the mountainside, only stopping when she spotted a dark place to rest. As she crept towards it she thought she saw movement, and was eager enough to divert her path; if there were more bugs for her to smite, she would crunch them up and spit them out, like the many she had already destroyed. But this was no insect she found. This was a grizzle-gray woman, and the closer the girl got, the easier it was to discern which dragon it was.

This was the gray woman that shared favor with Thuringwethil; the one who had welcomed Seregryn and Gavriel in to the fold. A smell filled the air that Seregryn wasn't entirely familiar with, and as she came creeping from beyond the barren ridge, she found both Gyda and the puddle of her vomit. The girl's snout crinkled, but she said nothing, and only observed the gray woman and the dark of her den with some degree of discomfort mixed with boredom. There were no bugs here, so the eager huntress felt unneccessary. Not to mention they hadn't gotten off to a great start before, so Seregryn was feeling quite out-of-place because of that. She canted her head as if to imply some submission, though the fire in her crimson eyes went unabated.

There was the sound of approaching footfalls upon the earth, and for a moment Gyda's stomach roiled in another, highly unattractive manner. For the moment, her guest was ignored as she fought the urge to throw up again, unsure how anything remained in her stomach as her meal the night before had been meager. A soft groan left her lips as she kept her back to whomever had approached, hesitating for the briefest of moments as nausea rolled again but she bit it back and the moment passed without spilling more of her stomach's contents. “I'm sorry,” The Viking Queen spoke, slightly abashed, as she turned from the poor bush that had once been so very lovely, to, her great surprise, face Seregryn. She had been accepted with Gavriel, and while there was a certain ...fondness for the Grounder man brewing within her she remained unsure about the girl before her.

Gyda, however, was willing to look past the rocky first impression she'd gotten from the girl now, so long as she was respectful of Gyda and her rank as Viking Queen. Gyda liked to think she wasn't hard to get along with but admittedly, but didn't tolerated what she thought to be disrespect at all. Vali had done it to her until she'd killed him and Gyda had sworn as he humiliated and berated her that never again would she allow any wolf to do the same. “Seregryn,” Gyda greeted the girl. “This is...a surprise.” The shield-maiden admitted with a curious cant to her head. “What can I do for you?” Gyda inquired, wondering if this visit was accidental or intentional, and regardless of either if it was social or business.

She had not intended to find any company today, being far too invested in clearing out the territory of the bug menace and hopped up on her adrenaline; yet here she was, having a deer-in-the-headlights moment with Thuringwethil's rank partner. Seregryn didn't know what to do initially, and just sort of.. Stood there, balancing from paw to paw as if she had somewhere to be and something was holding her in one place. When the woman noticed her and spoke her name, Sere's ears flicked forward for a second, then went back, and she finally felt the startled feeling ebb from her body.

Instead of answering the woman's question — or really reacting to her at all — she let out a little boof of a cough, and swiveled around. Her plan was just to nope  her way back out of the situation, because really, this woman held little favor in Seregryn's eyes. The only woman she bowed to was Thuringwethil and this gray partner of her's was hardly comparable. With a slight kick to her heels, Seregryn began to depart before any further words could be exchanged — clearly unhappy with her discovery.

Gyda watched, perplexed for a moment as Seregryn let out a little cough and turned around, though perplexity quickly morphed into hot ire as the girl then proceeded to ignore and walk away from her. It was so sudden that for a moment, in the aftermath of her recent bought of nausea left the shield-maiden breathless. Quick to compose herself, Gyda began to follow her, her tail curling over her back, hackles bristling with her anger at the girl's lack of respect. “Seregryn,” Gyda let out a low warning growl, to let the girl know that her patience had worn thin. Gyda had been as understanding as she could have been at first but suddenly, for Gyda, that patience was gone in — perhaps quite literally — a blink of an eye.

“You forget,” Gyda drew, not bothering to find her filter at this point. The enraged valkyrie was an entirely different beast than the diplomatic and gentle appearing Viking Queen. For some reason, Seregryn had managed to push every single one of Gyda's buttons in the scattering of a few seconds. “that Sleeping Dragon isn't Seageda. I don't care if you are Fos Goufa or not. I have been patient with you, but you have worn it out. You will show me the respect I deserve as Thuringwethil's equal or you can leave Sleeping Dragon.” Surely, Thuringwethil would protest and Gyda sometimes got the feeling that Thurin forgot that she was not the sole leader and that Gyda's opinion weighed just as much as her own, but at the moment Gyda wanted Seregryn to realize that the gentlee queen she might have appeared to be (maybe) was not the queen she always was. Thuringwethil had kicked Lucani out for what Gyda had seen to be nothing...thus Gyda saw no issue doing the same, should it come down to it. Her lips curled back from her teeth, more than willing to back her threat up with action.

Gyda didn't want it to come down to it and truly she didn't feel like she was asking for much; but Gyda had no tolerance for insubordination and she had no qualms about letting it be known.

oops. newly preggers gyda = moody af gyda >__>

At first she was oblivious to the anger of the woman, as her back was turned. It was the foolishness of youth which inspired such rash action, such obvious resistance; and perhaps this would be her downfall even before she reached the status of heda as was planned. The sound of the woman more or less snarling her name was enough to make her stop, startling a little though Seregryn tried to hide it, and she turned to watch the gray woman. What came next should have been enough to make Seregryn pause to think, or at the very least bow, because Gyda was correct. Gyda was another heda and that meant Seregryn should have respected her. There were many things that Sere should have done by now, but not many she willingly accepted. This was one of those instances where she just couldn't hold back — her pride was great, and boiled to the surface as soon as she heard Gyda compare herself as Thuringwethil's equal.

She leveled her eyes at Gyda, locking her crimson eyes with the woman's gaze, and with a voice that was oddly chilled for one so young she stated in the language of warriors: But you are not her equal. Alas, from any other child perhaps that would have been an innocent statement. From Seregryn it was akin to an accusation, though it was phrased in a hollow manner. The girl's own body was loose and thrumming with a fire to her pulse, as if expecting retaliation as promised, and for a split second she doubted her own abilities — wondering if she could evade anything that came at her, as this woman was both larger, stronger, and more experienced. Perhaps her anger would get in the way? In which case, she would have to make her quite angry for her emotions to fog her reaction.

Seregryn was playing with fire. If this woman wished to be seen as another heda then she would have to prove herself — and Sere was convinced of her own status in this place. That Thuringwethil would sooner throw this outsider back in to the wilderness rather than let her fos goufa be treated in such a manner. The true heda was not here though. Seregryn had a split second to think all of this before her brain more or less shut off, and her tongue had its way: You have somehow found your way to our Heda's side, but know this: Once I am heda there will be no room for outsiders. You will be cast back out there with the foreigners, back to your own kind, where you belong! The petulant child was already trying to back-step and weasel her way out of range of the grown woman, but knew it was futile.

“I am her equal and it's past time you accept it,” Gyda wasn't going to bicker in circles with the girl. She was going to speak what was fact and that was going to be it. This wasn't a negotiation, after all. Sleeping Dragon was not Seageda anymore than it was Odinn's Cove. Together, Thuringwethil and Gyda had created something new and Seregryn would either accept it and be a part of Sleeping Dragon or she wouldn't accept it and thus find herself without a home. Seregryn's confidence was almost enough to make Gyda laugh, almost but not quite. “You will never be Heda of Sleeping Dragon,” Gyda snapped at the ignorant girl before her, slinking forward with her entire body pulsing her dominance. If Seregryn was not willing to go into her place, then Gyda would put her in her place. “My children's claim will always be stronger than yours.” Gyda'd heard enough and was itching to be let loose onto her warpath. “You are an ignorant child. If you are so unhappy here and do not like how Sleeping Dragon is different then Seageda, then get out.” For a moment, only for a moment, Gyda wondered if the girl chose to leave where she would go. Surely, no alpha would accept her behavior that she currently displayed to Gyda, and without the Dragon wolves and in the aftermath of the swarm her possibility of starving to death was no doubt high. Their possibility of starving to death as a pack was high as it was. “You will show me respect as your Queen or you will learn how cruel the world outside Seageda can truly be.” How cruel I can be. To Gyda, Seregryn was little more than a spoiled brat, and the shield-maiden would to cut her loose and send her into the skeletal wilds the swarm left in their wake without any remorse, if the girl continued upon her path of disrespect, insubordination and self-entitlement. A last chance was given, solely out of respect for Thuringwethil. What Seregryn intended to do with it was up to her.

For the last several minutes, Thuringwethil had idly been following a scent but with no real urgency. The wind shifted in the right moment, enough to draw her attention, and she’d begun the short trek to where it originates. It isn’t until she’s close enough to hear voices that she fully realizes what she’s walked upon. The tone, she’s able to quickly decide, is less than pleasant and her slate eyes shift from one distant figure to the next but it does not yet increase her speed to approach.

…Seageda, then get out.

Thuringwethil stiffens, ears cupping forward to try and hear the rest but it’s not as pronounced as she’s suddenly advancing, a queasiness in the depth of her stomach and a snarl beginning its formation on her lips.

She growls—low—on her approach, her eyes heavy on Seregrýn’s form, pedaled back a few steps as Gyda’s anger threatens to engulf them. Her own ears flick irritably on her head before she slides in without so much of a word, or a chuff of her lips. Thuringwethil steps in between the two females, separating their focus on each other and instead, on her. Her own cheeks feel flush with anger—pointed at no where in particular—but she takes a deep breath and remains silent, looking between the two expectantly.

The woman came after her, and it took all of Seregryn's concentration to keep herself from being bitten or torn to pieces, so she only caught bits of what she was saying. Those bits rang in her ears as distractions, and when Seregryn heard mention of children, she stumbled back and shot Gyda with a narrowed gaze, stunned by the proclamation and offended by its implication. She felt Gyda's words strike at her heart before any physical blows could be administered, and loosed a snarl from her own lips. There was no mistaking the Sleeping Dragon for any other place, that was true. She knew that. Hearing it spoken by an outsider did little more than rile the girl; at the same time, she wished to snap back and throw her own accusations. There was no time, as the true hedaburst upon the scene and wedged herself between the two of them.

As soon as Seregryn saw her idol, her teeth were hastily hidden. She let the growling die out in her chest, but there was the ever present antagonistic quality of her gaze which bore through Thuringwethil, aiming for Gyda. If Seregryn could light the gray woman aflame with her mind, she would be pleased. Not a word comes from the fos goufa as she is too filled with rage and loathing for this pretender to the throne — and whatever spawn she now carried — to put together any coherent sentence for her beloved leader. She does not even draw back, even with Thuringwethil there; basking in the company of this woman she so wished to emulate. Seregryn would not back down from Gyda, not even with the heda standing between them.

Before Gyda could make any advances to force the girl into submission Thuringwethil appeared on the scene and angrily pushed her way between the two of them. A low noise rumbled in Gyda's chest and her tail gave a few quick lashes behind her in her irritation at Thuringwethil's convenient arrival. The Grounder Commander did not speak but her irritation did not go unnoticed by the Viking Queen, who thought that it was hardly warranted considering Gyda assumed that Thuringwethil had little knowledge of what had gone on here. The consideration that perhaps Thuringwethil had been there longer than Gyda would have liked to assumed and would actually allow Seregryn's actions against her was a stinging one but Gyda did not know that to be the case and was not ready to let her hastily made assumptions rile her further.

“You should know that Seregryn has shown me nothing but disrespect and insubordination and I am sick of it,” In Odinn's Cove, insubordination meant death. Luckily, for the girl, Sleeping Dragon wasn't Odinn's Cove. “I am not tolerating it anymore. I am the Viking Queen of this pack, Thuringwethil. I would never allow any of my vikings from the Cove, regardless of their rank or stature within our culture treat you with the insubordination or disrespect that she has shown me.” And Gyda did not think it fair that she had to endure something that she would never allow her Vikings to do to Thuringwethil.

“We are not Seageda any more than we are Odinn's Cove. We are Sleeping Dragon,” Gyda's hormones were a raging mess and she was irritable because of the lack of food in her stomach; but most of all she felt the sting of Seregryn's insubordination like the lash of a whip to her skin, and she would not tolerate it. No Alpha would — no Alpha should be expected to. “Her behavior needs to change and quick,” She'd already forgotten her place and thus Gyda was more than ready to remind her of where it was. “What would you do if one of our wolves showed you such disrespect and insubordination?” Gyda posed the question to Thuringwethil, wondering if the Commander would give her a straight answer or dance around it based off of potential affection for her Fos Goufa. "What action would you take?" The shield-maiden clarified.

It is not often she is around the wolves at the same time as Gyda; she did not see how the wolves of the dragon treated her. Specifically her own, but she doubt Gavriel is much of a problem considering what had been asked of him. The rest—the few—is more or left on Seregrýn with the exception of the newer wolves. The rest, Thuringwethil and Gyda shared and equalized, even if she attempts to recruit them all within Drageda’s embrace.

Thuringwethil watches the range of emotions cross the woman’s face and it surprises her she’s acting so rash so soon, but she realizes she hasn’t spent much time around pregnant women. Their timeline is, more or less, unclear to her. Either way, she realizes the training, constantly reminding them—especially the females—the dangers of carrying children while being the commander. As much as the dark leader wants to point it out, she holds her tongue—later, if at all.

Heda turns to the girl that seems to relax with her standing in between them. Thuringwethil can see the truth across her face, but she slowly turns a few degrees to look at Seregrýn comfortably.

“What happens, Seregrýn, if Heda is shown such disrespect?”

scuse me while i ramble & then pass out

The gray woman rallied off a list of her grievances, which Seregryn heard only because she was still so close to the scene, having not moved from her spot. It was like hearing the other fos goufa of Seageda complain of their various wounds after their tutelage; this was a woman who demanded respect, yet whined like a newborn child begging for the attention of their mother. When Thuringwethil's attention deviated so that it focused solely upon Gyda, Seregryn shifted her weight and leaned around the heda, watching, judging with her eyes.

Then, as the leader abruptly turned to face Seregryn, the girl returned to her stationary position with the intent to look innocent, though she knew she was not. Of the three wolves gathered Thuringwethil was the calmest, and Seregryn emulated that quiet confidence as best she could, though her pulse raced and her agitation was difficult to hide. At the very least she hoped to be more composed than the gray pretender by the Alpha's flank, but there was no way of knowing how convincing she was.

But then again, perhaps it was in vain.

Thuringwethil is watching her plainly, studying her, and Seregryn cannot help but lift her chin under the scrutiny of her idol. She hears the question and doesn't know what to say at first. The lessons of Seageda and Trigeda were firmly rooted within her, but it has been some time since anyone has mentioned the old laws. Seregryn tries to drum up any memory of her lessons and it is evident by the slight shift of her ears, the subtle half-squint of her eyes as she tries to focus.

In the end she only murmurs, Jus drein... jus daun? And the hesitance in her voice is enough to show the heda that she has perhaps forgotten some of the teachings. Seregryn thinks a moment and feels the weight of the situation for the first time — she has not drawn blood, so that answer must be wrong. Yet she has indeed disrespected their secondary Alpha, and knows the punishment must be a grave one.

The air was tense, something that felt incredibly palpable to Gyda as if it had transcended emotion and became nearly a physical entity. She was angry, insulted especially. She had no intentions of pretending, or giving the girl the benefit of the doubt. Seregryn had already used up her benefit of the doubt and her insubordination was not anywhere close to acceptable to Gyda. Thuringwethil had listened but her silence and attention had not been enough to loosen the tension that stiffened the Viking Queen's shoulders as Heda addressed the insolent girl who stood on the other side of Thuringwethil. The question was simple — and for a moment irritated Gyda. Gyda had not asked Seregryn what Thuringwethil would have done, she'd asked Thuringwethil, but stilled her tongue and swallowed the angry huff that threatened to leave her when the girl responded with uncertainty. Gyda's gaze hardened as she continued to focus it upon Thuringwethil expectantly.

There is a moment without response as Seregryn fumbles through for an answer. Thuringwethil frowns already and by the time she does reply, a sigh slips from her muzzle. She glances away from the girl without responding to her answer, and watches Gyda for a moment as she goes through her own frustrations. When coming together with Gyda to found Sleeping Dragon, her expectations had been vague. It wasn’t until Gavriel showed up with a handful of others that things would change.

“Womplei.”

Her gaze hardens as she turns back to Seregryn.

“Gyda es Wocha. Gyda is your leader in Sleeping Dragon, where Drageda lives,” she repeats, once she realizes she’d slipped into her mother tongue. “Disrespecting her is disrespecting me,” she says then and shifts so that all her attention is on the Fos Goufa. She doesn’t understand the motives behind the girl and she wonders if it is because she is the only one. In the event of her death, Seregryn’s easily put into position for Heda. Thuringwethil went up against three others, expecting to lose her life that day, where Seregryn does not get that chance of competition. “This is your only warning,” she says then, jerking her nose in dismissal.

Exit Sere!

Death.

It should have affected her more, hearing this. It did not. Seregryn watched the heda with a blank expression for a few moments as she explained, accepting what she said but giving no rebuttal. Was she not exempt from that ruling, being a fos goufa? She was one of the chosen! Set to lead should Thuringwethil ever fall — and for the first time, Seregryn feels a wave of contempt for her idol. In this moment heda was siding with an outsider (at least in Seregryn's mind) and that meant she was unfit. A darkness passed over her features as her head drooped, and she turned away from the pair of adults - given the chance to depart, being dismissed like a child, only made Seregryn's passion stronger.

She pulled free of the conflict and began to stiffly march away from them, the fur of her back prickling, and she is unable to lift her head or move with pride. Aside from feeling personally wounded by the heda's decision, Seregryn feels the weight of her position and the importance of her future. She would fix Drageda, remedy it of its falsehoods. If a heda falls, she will be there to do her duty and overtake their position - and now Seregryn knows for certain that her aunt need not be the one to die.

Their language was as strange to Gyda as she felt her native language would have been to her. In some semblance it was ironic how she had struggled to revert back to the Common tongue only to now find herself irritated that it wasn't being spoken in her presence. To her credit she understood a few words of their language but not anywhere enough to be considered fluent ...or below average at that. As if remembering that, Thuringwethil had thankfully switched back to the common tongue for no one's benefit but Gyda's own to be sure. Satisfied that Thuringwethil had handled it, and at the promise that it was the only warning that Seregryn would receive Gyda watched the girl depart. She did not offer an apology, though, nor any promise that she would remember her place within the Dragon, beneath Gyda's rule. The Viking Queen probably wouldn't have believed it anyway. The doubt of sincerity or that this was at all over would have lingered in the back of Gyda's mind anyway, as it did now.

When she was sure Seregryn was gone — not that the shield-maiden truly cared if the girl overheard or not — she fixed her gaze once more upon Thuringwethil. “I know what she means to you as your Fos Goufa, but if her behavior repeats, as her Heda are you prepared to do what is necessary?” The fact remained that whether Thuringwethil would go through with it or not (should it happen again) hardly mattered to Gyda. Gyda was prepared to do what was necessary, though the theory remained in Gyda's mind that the consequence would only be made effective if it came from Heda directly.

Seregryn lingers a little longer, as if to process, but her features change little with the realization. Why she hadn’t known it, Thuringwethil doesn’t know, but she does know she should. Has her teaching been lost in the months since Seageda had dissolved? She’d been young at the time, her studies thrown askew, and the apparent lake of respect for those above her grates against her nerves. Thuringwethil tightens her jaw, setting it in a firm position on her head squared between her shoulders. She notes the insubordination but before she can sort through her worry, Gyda speaks up.

She closes her slate eyes before she swings around, getting her jaw firmly tightened shut for fear of speaking the wrong words for the moment. Her Fos Goufa isn’t meant to give her trouble but her queen will not understand. Thuringwethil turns and opens her eyes, gaze falling on the fine set of Gyda’s anger.

“It won’t happen again,” she says through restraint before turning back the way she’d came to figure out what to do about the girl.